She would have just to keep the fifteen pounds until she could make it twenty. ” She stood up and held her arms toward him. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground.
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