sixty-four

One hundred sixty-four years later, I stood alongside representatives of the very same people.

He’s sixty-four, an age few people reach at the time.

Like the number of squares on a chessboard—an irony that nevertheless cannot be pressed too far—he was sixty-four.

A total of sixty-four American planes hit four North Vietnamese patrol boat bases.

I count sixty-four pages left to read in Daddy’s notebook, which seems like a lot, but if I keep reading every day, I’ll be done in no time.