“It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked. That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. Because Leonardo, he made me see that I can be someone. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. I’ve accustomed myself to think of you— as if you were like every other girl who works at the schools—as something quite outside these possibilities.
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