Word: glowed
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...killed by a Katyusha rocket in 1978 as they walked past a wall in the Manara kibbutz. There is a hole in the wall, like a bite mark, where they were hit. It is the only sign of destruction in Manara, where everything else seems to flourish. Red flowers glow in dark green bushes. Babies in colorful sun hats waddle in the playground where the cab of an old truck has been painted yellow and pink and made into a toy. The older children use the pool. From the water they may look down into a valley full of plums...
...large, uninteresting reception room at the society, Aida stands and Hilda sits. Aida is 16 and a beauty, her brown-and-pink skin made to glow against a long-sleeved off-white blouse so elegant as to seem part of a royal costume. Hilda at six is no beauty yet, but she has possibilities, and ambition. Her loud red knee socks exactly match her huge square purse. She wears the purse on her chest, hanging from her neck. Her eyes sparkle at everything that is said, but she says nothing herself, content to listen to Um Khalil, Aida...
...glow is fading like the flickering display on a calculator with dying batteries. The firm's profits are down 55% for the first 9 months of this year. It has laid off 2,800 employees, or 3% of its work force. The price of its stock has plunged 50%, from $150 to $75. TI's once dominant share of the calculator market is being squeezed on the high-priced end by Hewlett-Packard, while the Japanese have cornered sales of economy models. Its attempt to break into the home-computer business has been disastrous. As for digital watches...
...make ends meet. Says Gebhardt, at his Denville, N.J., kennel-cattery: "Raising dogs can be big business. You can depend on it for your livelihood. Cat people have to love the animal, because there's nothing to get from it but personal ego satisfaction." Gebhardt's glow is provided by Voodoo, a great black Persian champion who sired 200 championship kittens. Recalls Gebhardt: "Voodoo was the feline answer...
THERE'S A CERTAIN sense of security that comes when the guy who taught you Fiction Expos publishes his first collection of short stories and they turn out to be offbeat, readable, even provocative. All those thesis statements adequately supported, specific active verbs and logical transitions produce a warming glow, a feeling that, after all, God or John Harvard or at least Richard Marius must be in his heaven...