"I wouldn't like that much," I told Andy. "The tent for five or six men is the size of ours."
Later as we drove across broad expanses of prairie...
"11:55. We just picked up an hour crossing South Dakota," said Andy.
Ironic that I had been reading about fleeting time in McCann's novel Let the Great World Spin.
"So it's 10:55?" I asked. "Times change."
"Yup," he answered.
I wondered just how much of my double meaning was apparent.
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