She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. Charcoal. For hours after she had not been sensible to life, only to exquisite echoes. There you are, the best client’s chair. "Aha!" exclaimed Jackson. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. Splendidly.
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