Then he was surrounded by black-clad nuns, and Melusine felt an unknown hand grab away her own sword. You didn’t even do that Vee; not even that. She was nestled under his bedspread. ‘I knowed he were a wrong ’un, but that. As you brew so must you drink. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle.
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