Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. She had other boyfriends and hung out at Foster’s only bar most of the time. “Where is she?” He would yell even louder until she was sure that people in faraway fishing boats could probably hear him. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. One of the reasons why I decline to talk is this: that boy's punishment will be enough.
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