“Raskol,” I asked, “what’s past the bridge?”
    “Mmmm?” he asked. He had been studying the dark-haired girl. “What’s past the bridge? I don’t know.”
    “Let’s find out,” I said.
    “Sure,” he said. Some time passed before he added, “Let’s go.”
    Neither of us moved.

Life on the Bolotomy, page 6