She stole a few glances at John as she stood and played the pieces. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. You must be misinformed, Mr. Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers.
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