Usually it was fish sticks and reheated noodles. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. Wood carved the ducks; Mr. Think if your own mother was alive!” He paused, deeply moved. A few seasons went by where he initiated her into the disgusting rituals of killing and eating human beings, a dark time where she pined for a rescuer who never arrived.
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