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"They headed down the slope between streams of yellow crime scene tape, and Sean watched the sun begin its decent through the trees, turning the Pen a rusty gold, adding a red glow to the treetops. Sean thinking if he were dead that's one of the things he'd probably miss most, the colors, the way they could come out of nowhere and surprise you, even though they could make you feel slightly sad, too, small, like you didn't belong here."
- Dennis LeHane, Mystic River
