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Sam pictured himself as a hollow bone, stripped of the marrow that made him alive.
A hollow man notices little. He barely registered his fellow passengers, the captain, and crew. He barely knew the name of the steamboat, or the ports they stopped in, Cincinnati, Louisville, Evansville . . .
He did feel the force of the current, the urge of the river, westward, westward, down the Ohio River. As much as he could experience any emotion, he was glad.
At night he dreamt of emptiness. He slept outside on the bow of the steamer, wrapped in the moon's misty light