He greeted the corpulent boy at the register, whose tag read, \"MY NAME IS Jason\" with familiarity. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. And in these crowded four weeks, what had she learned? That all horizons were lies: that smiles and handshakes and goodbyes and welcomes were lies: that there were really no to-morrows, only a treadmill of to-days: and that out of these lies and mirages she had plucked a bitter truth—she was alone. 1. ” She murmured. Pretty good stuff, some of it.
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