Winn Dixie

"Opal?" said the preacher. He was lying on his stomach, and Winn-Dixie was sitting on top of him, panting and whining. "Yes sir," I said.

"Opal," the preacher said again. "Yes sir," I said louder.

"Do you know what a pathological fear is?" "No sir," I told him.

The preacher raised a hand. He rubbed his nose. "Well," he said, after a minute, "it's a fear that goes way beyond normal fears. It's a fear you can't be talked out of or reasoned out of."

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