I sit on the bench in front of Bell's Market and think about Homer Buckland
and about the beautiful girl who leaned over to open his door when he come
down that path with the full red gasoline can in his right hand--she looked a
girl of no more than sixteen, a girl on her learner's permit, and her beauty was
terrible, but I believe it would no longer kill the man it turned itself on; for a
moment her eyes lit on me, I was not killed, although part of me died at her feet.
-Stephen King, Mrs. Todd's Shortcut
A great short story. Pick it up and give it a read sometime.
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