If he decided to watch television upstairs with his mother, she would probably retire before he did, but she was a light sleeper. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. She cleaned everything, wiped every surface, mopped and scrubbed every last drop of blood. It was a society column about the richest men in the world and their lavish parties.
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