“You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. That is why I called myself Anna. 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. . “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. ’ Lucy giggled.
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