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Yes, for the first time Marty was embarrassed that she was his sibling; a weird change he had to take note of. “But we all agreed with the story, Mary. You were the only one, the only one. The Benedict Arnold.”
Mary shrugged her shoulders, not hurt at all by the pronouncement. “You know I was right to do it.”
“No, you weren’t right.” Marty quickly walked over to stand in front of her, the size of Gordon almost blocking Marty’s view now of the cottage. “We all agreed. You nodded your head too.”
“It was a fake nod,” she said defiantly, as they began to once again argue like children.
“You can’t fake a nod.”
“I did.” Mary said, letting go of Gordon and walking towards Marty, not giving an inch.
“Look, I can do it now.” She nodded. “And here’s another.” She did it again. “I could go all day.”
“How can any of our friends trust you, trust me anymore?”
“Because of my nod?”
“Your nod of lies, yes. I’m guilty by association with your nod.”
She pointed at herself. “I own my nod.”
“If that was only true. Your nod affects all of us. It is the plague of nods.”
“Marty,” a voice said simply to their left, interrupting their argument. They both turned together, perfectly in unison to face Jenn. She did not look at all happy to be seeing them, and in her black with the rain and the clouds of smoke in the distance, she almost looked like a specter of death.
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