Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. You might be able to use the picture some day. " "Aye, music hits them. John eased off. I didn’t know that you had it that bad,” said John. She ran through the backyards of Pinecrest subdivision, piano wire and a slim jim tucked into her pantyhose. She kept her face downcast.
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