Father groaned. “Lily,” he said. “It’s bedtime.”
Eighteen
“Giver,” Jonas asked the next afternoon, “Do you ever think about release?”
“Do you mean my own release, or just the general topic of release?”
“Both, I guess. I apologi—I mean I should have been more precise. But I don’t know exactly what I meant.”
“Sit back up. No need to lie down while we’re talking.”
Jonas, who had already been stretched out on the bed when the question came to his mind, sat back up.
“I guess I do think about it occasionally,” The Giver said. “I think about my own release when I’m in an awful lot of pain.
I wish I could put in a request for it, sometimes. But I’m not permitted to do that until the new Receiver is trained.”
“Me,” Jonas said in a dejected voice. He was not looking forward to the end of the training, when he would become the new Receiver.
It was clear to him what a terribly difficult and lonely life it was, despite the honor.
“I can’t request release either,” Jonas pointed out. “It was in my rules.”
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