While I am talking about your friends, I feel—I think you ought to know how I look at it. ‘Flirting, Gerald? A new come-out for you. I saw the metal box a hundred times, but I never thought of opening it until the day I fled. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. I'm not hungry.
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