The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. Only of course I must begin something else at once. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. ” Miss Pellissier stiffened visibly.
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