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uppose, have rubbed my blindfold free, but that would
have been cheating in a sense. If I wanted out, I could simply
ask; if I didn't, I should play by the rules. A blindfold like
that is almost more a symbol than a reality. I had one in the
toybox that was real, that I couldn't have pushed off. It was
more like a tight-fitting ski mask that left my nose and mouth
free, but locked behind my neck. A taut elastic band went down
from the built-in eyepieces to the lock, so that I couldn't push
it up off of my eyes. It even had loops for a pair of straps
that would go down across my cheeks and fasten to the neckband in
front, for use when I didn't need my mouth -- times like right
now. That blindfold was much less comfortable; I left the cur-
rent one alone. (Not, of course, that it would have slipped off
easily; the strap in back was broad, elastic, and quite taut.)
Alone in the dark, I vaguely remembered a conversation Roger and
I had had a few months ago. I didn't remember it well, because
it took place late
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