It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. Aliva's husband, who passed by the name of Darrell, confronted them sword in hand. At least the sun would not be as bright, which was a welcome reprieve from the mercilessly bright early summer days which had invigorated every man, woman, and child in the suburbs but were wearing Lucy down into acute fatigue, along with her hunger. Little by little, she stopped hating him.
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