No, Michigan"
"sure, naught? had an aunt move out there, Flint. You know Flint?"
"Yeah, I know Flint." Milkman's feet were singing, the tender skin of the ball louder than the heels.
He dared not spread his toes, lest the singing were stop"
"What kind a place is it, Flint? "
"Live, no place you'd want to go"
"Thought so, name sounds good, but I thought it'd be like that