She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. It was easy to recognize, the one thing that had stayed the same over the years. When I awoke I followed my instinct to Athena’s temple. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed.
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