You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. The newcomer stopped short upon the threshold. She fled. ” He said. Kneebone made no effort to check the unreasonable merriment of his companions, but rather seemed to encourage it. 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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