” Lucy knew exactly which blouse Sheila had found. Lucy did her best to avoid talking about it, but the subject was beguiling, as it almost always brought news about him from the grapevine within which Michelle was intravenously entwined. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. “How’s the star?” John’s father asked. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening.
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