She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner. Her eyes were insane with rage, crusted with yellow and green, only beginning to heal from her long sojourn underground. ‘Something in that, missie. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air.
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