“Buon Primomaggio. The fact is I was so glad to see you again that it never occurred to me that a little discretion might be advisable. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception.
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