Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. “Okay, Mom. After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked. Michelle was only a junior, the same year as herself.
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