It was time to get up. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. ‘Good. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. Lucy simply added her own good night, even though a significant part of her wanted to call Cathy mother, she refrained. Perhaps she was. Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual.
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