She was acquiring truths, but in a series of shocks rather than by the process of analysis. “My Mom was a good lady. “Remember that the man will probably die. ‘But of course. ’ The lady looked unexpectedly smug. I know he is dead. The shape of the head, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose, the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she had never before looked upon closely. She lay very still and closed her eyes, hear tears gliding off of her ears, causing them to itch. ‘She knows what she’s up against.
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