\" Michelle met her at her locker, right on schedule, carrying a backpack so overstuffed it was its own conversation piece. ‘Something in that, missie. “Yes,” she answered, looking away. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties. I'll try a strong dose. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea.
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