Henry was my roommate when we were in college. He used to write poetry like many people of his age. Now he's a novelist, and his book have been adapted to several movies, and his name often appears in the headlines. Last Friday, he sent me a photocopy of some chapters from the book he was writing. The book was based on a road trip we had years ago. The only difference was ending. I settled down and got an office job eventually. But the characters in the book never stopped their life on the road.
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