” She gave him a Marboro which he lit with a Zippo with an American flag on it. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. " "Forgive you!" echoed his mother, with a look radiant with delight. ” “Why not?” She turned on him. "Where shall I fly?" exclaimed the lady, bewildered with terror. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. “You shall go,” he declared. She pulled a few strands of her hair from her head to leave with Michelle’s.
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