“Tell me,” he said; “speak to me. There was a girlfriend who was mentally ill. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. ” Lucy considered the irony that Michelle had spent seventeen years waiting to escape the suburban existence she had always longed to live. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger.
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