She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. I never let her read stories, or have pets, dolls. "That's it!"—eagerly. Shouting to his companion, even as they passed by where I hid myself, he called out that he thought to find you at the convent. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. For a few minutes he kept them at bay.
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