"My invitation did not extend to them. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. She was good to me for the two years I stayed with her, she had a nice apartment in Galveston. On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. They are not your children, they never were. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. behind the Laundromat.
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