It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. “I shall come back, if at all, a new man. ” Annabel gave a little gasp. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. The night was now profoundly dark. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her.
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