After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. Lucy slipped upstairs silently. No one had the resources or the inclination to rebuild them. There was a photo of her that looked exactly like you. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. “If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him.
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