Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. " "What a life!" "No worse than yours.
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