“To the best of my belief, I have never seen the man in my life. She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. He closed the door. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing.
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