She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. Melusine soon found herself seated at a table, with a dirty piece of paper in front of her, and a badly mended pen between her fingers. ” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born. Clarice loved babies as much as Lucia did and chattered about them day and night.
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