She got up early, and walked about the garden in the dewy June sunshine and revived her childhood. ” Mike knocked on the thin core door that sealed her and Shari’s bedroom from the outside world. Gold-handled, too. Her aunt was making herself cuffs out of little slips of insertion under the newly lit lamp. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. .
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