“I’m still inside you. ” “Not for you?” “No. Wood, "and I'm sorry and surprised he hasn't swung for his crimes before this. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest. Gianfrancesco ran from the room, tearing at his hair. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music.
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