" So, after a time, encountering the blot, she herself would supply the word Faith. Also Lucy, who had been so much her friend. The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. "I'd forgotten. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. “My mom is making duck.
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