Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. He now tells her that she is free, no longer a slave. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. “She is an extremely attractive girl,” she said; and added, “to some people. You have told me that you cared. 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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