“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(His wife was drinking a cup of coffee in the kitchen. “I saw a station wagon just like your father’s,” Bob Hagel said.

(“I’m all goose-pimply thinking about everything. All kinds of decisions. I’m waiting for them to totter down on us like a pile of bricks.” She grinned sheepishly. He sat down, but she stared at the table. Everything seemed threatened, curled at the edges, burnt black and in need of replacement. Her wide gray eyes were anxious, her slim almost boyish body had an impatient agility. She shook her head emphatically so that her short curly black hair bobbed up and down.

(Bob Hagel grinned at her, yet for a moment he didn’t know what to say. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. While he hadn’t made any conscious decision to leave the valley, he felt as if he had. He felt as if the whole thing was out of his hands. He sat there in his paint-stained khakis, a man almost forty, brave, cowardly, cocky. Before he spoke he tilted his brown-gray head at an earnest angle and stared at her with his usually severe face now wreathed with smiles. “Don’t take it so hard,” he said. “The world isn’t falling apart or anything.”