Not like my father. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. ‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. Marriage!—and no woman by to tell the child what it was! The shocks and disillusions she would have to meet unsuspectingly—and bitterly. Mike was draped over the laminate kitchen counter, on the phone as usual. My Mom and Dad were always 184 at work. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed.
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