Is it so, Annabel?” “I did not know,” she faltered, “anything about you. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. The car ride to the new movie theater, a multiplex, was brief and harrowing. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. He disappeared after getting my foster sister Traci pregnant. It slipped out—as did that “she”.
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