She let go of him and stood up, straightening herself. Give up your lonely hours of work here. Capes?” she heard her aunt saying. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. The popcorn dwindled to a half a bucket, his heart settled into its normal routine. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man.
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