‘Wait for me. 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. . When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. Men ought not to idealize any woman. “Oh, Lord!” she said, discovering what she was up to, and dropped lightly from the fence upon the turf and went on her way toward the crest.
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