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. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. There stood John and Mr. I’ve no name for it yet. ” “In a minute, in a minute,” he answered, his eyes fixed upon Anna.
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