It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. It is what I have done. Her father became much less distant towards his only daughter in the days that followed. Larry would be up soon. The others hurried to the window. Each arm of the blouse had the faintest of rings around the elbow, a stain that looked familiar. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites.
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