’ Her face fell. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. She moaned, having failed in her mission to find her mother and her God. “I’ve brought you up some dinner, Vee,” she said. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. I believe you’ve crushed a gland or something.
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