She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. " The manager began some computations. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. A brief calm succeeded. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. ‘That’s why I’m asking.
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