‘No one is here, Melusine, except you and I. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Her voice shook, her eyes were very soft and melting. He stood outside of the car, bewildered, as she walked up to the BMW’s front bumper. The late afternoon, en effet. Before very long I hope to have definite work.
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