“Can’t you SEE how things are?” she said. ’ The familiar hollow opened up inside Melusine’s chest, and she could not prevent the husky note that entered her voice. ‘Ah, the tragedy. The boy doesn't know it, but I dug into his trunk for something to identify him and stumbled upon some manuscripts. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light.
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