‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. Missy looked like a troll with lipstick on. The opiate has done its duty. “Lucy! You found me! I was just about to sleep some of those rum and Cokes off like the pig I am. We ourselves have been similarly circumstanced.
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