For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. For hours after she had not been sensible to life, only to exquisite echoes. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son. Sheila bellowed, a great wail of a sound from deep in her belly, flinging her tremendous weight towards him.
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