She approached Ruth with open arms; and something in the way the child came into that kindly embrace hurt the older woman to the point of tears. I should have gotten out of here months ago!” She opened the passenger side and reclined in the bucket seat. They walked back to 118 hand in hand. Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “That thing’s going on,” she told herself.
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