Coyote set the wooden match against the page and drew the pencil along, stopping, shifting, underlining four or five words at a time. When he pulled it away, he saw small hills, where he’d traced around the tips of his fingers.
The words he’s underlined were good, ordered particularly, carefully selected. The idea they presented was something more. Something greater. This phrase didn’t need to be underlined, he’d read it over and over and over again, until he’d had it memorized. He’d marked them in case the book went to another, so they could see what had touched him so.