’ Gerald laughed, and turned back to Melusine, who was frowning again. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. I tried to get across the terrace and onto the bridge to introduce myself, but the crowds did not part and I lost you. ’ She counted off on her fingers. Hopefully.
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