She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. . It gave her great satisfaction to hear that Madame Chamberlain had spent a night in the county jail, even if the nocturnal activities picked right up again after two weeks. But I liked to say it. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. . Like a trollop in heat. .
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