She had not chosen her life, but she was foggy on whether or not it was right to deny others the right to join her in her suffering. We meant to make it dinner and a theatre, but you were not home. He was always in a state of semi-intoxication, but he was always gentle with me. ‘It is that he needed me for his lie, no?’ Melusine said, striving to control the quiver in her voice. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. Yet there was nothing for her to do.
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