Perhaps that is why I lost my ambition. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. Strange, I could never learn her history. ” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered her onto the flat surface of the picnic bench. The voices went into his ears but left no impression of their import. By the time she was done, the bodies in the bathtub were gathering flies. They are not your children, they never were.
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