“Your father,” he said, “remarked that all’s well that ends well, and that he was disposed to let bygones be bygones. Then, her body still tense with the atoms of anger, she sat down upon the edge of the bed and rocked from side to side. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk.
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