She found pieces of it on the blacktop near the green dumpster, amazingly small pieces considering the fabric’s original heft. “My God!” and ceased to move. They weren’t very chummy with one another but Sheila 113 didn’t expect much from a foster daughter as long as she worked hard, very hard, to earn her keep. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. Wild's busy. Her steps slowed.
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