Well, after all, he seemed to be turning the subject. No, this was imbecile. Michelle ate fast, and Lucy followed her lead, shoveling mashed potatoes and salmon down her gullet in a passionless frenzy. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. "We must keep still. He did not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. I think not.
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