The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. I feel a mixture of beast and uncle. ‘She’s gone. ” Ann Veronica meditated over that phrase. There was a time, long, long ago, when the tears would have rushed to my eyes unbidden at the bare mention of generosity like yours, Mr.
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