Winn Dixie

"Five," said the preacher. "He was only five years old." "Daddy," I said, "how could you not tell me about something like that?" "Other people's tragedies should not be the subject of idle conversation. There was no reason for me to tell you." "It's just that I needed to know," I said. Because it helps explain Amanda. No wonder she's so pinch- faced."

"What's that?" said the preacher. "Nothing," I said.

"Good night, India Opal," the preacher said. He leaned over and kissed me, and I smelled the root beer and the strawberry and the sadness all mixed together on his breath. He patted Winn-Dixie on the head and got up and turned off the light and closed the door.

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