I don’t have to take this shit. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. ‘That’s why I’m asking. “Have you told anybody else?” Lucy asked. “Now bite as hard as you can, John. I can’t tell anyone certain things about my life.
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