“But your sister?” he asked. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. " Ruth slightly brushed the withered cheek. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen. ’ Gerald raised his brows.
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