Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. You’re a piss-poor liar, John. “He has said something of the sort. She began to want to lay her head down on his chest but absolutely denied herself. People spoke of him everywhere as a young man of great promise, a politician by instinct, a keen and careful judge of character. She lay very still and closed her eyes, hear tears gliding off of her ears, causing them to itch. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. There were no mourners.
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