" "Come along, then. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. “It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully. Birthdays just ain’t the same once you get old kiddo. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. I am quite sure though that they did not mean to be rude.
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