It plucked shingles from the school building, threatening to shake them all loose one by one like rotting teeth. “Get out of the car. No matter. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. She passed down the stairs and into the street. ‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg.
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