She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd.
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