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She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. She lifted the sheet and gestured for him to join her. “One doesn’t wait,” said Ann Veronica. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. Her shoulders began to ache. “Why, I do not know. She sat with him in the courtyard after serving him 20 spiced wine. Michelle began to shadow her at school.
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