A long, dragging sigh says what Ben wants to: this sucks and I'm mad, but the hand in his hair convinces him to at least behave himself for the moment. "Someday we'll go to the beach," he decides, "...not... not around Fairport, maybe. But we'll go to the seaside, in the summertime."
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"Someday we'll go to the beach," he decides, "...not... not around Fairport, maybe. But we'll go to the seaside, in the summertime."