She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. Shari’s head poked out of the bathroom where she had been preoccupied with preparations for her morning shower. It was better even than the hymn-singing. When he found himself thinking about it, it upset him so that he at once resorted to distraction. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. No fear o' that.
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