She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. ” He shook her diminutive hand. This one too she read. Sheila’s boys hadn’t been much help when they were around the house, anyway, they were more partial to lolling around on couches and running around with their girls. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. They seem to spend their time yawning and inspecting their neighbour’s dresses through those hateful glasses.
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