She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. Why open my mouth if there might not be a need for it when all’s said?’ Melusine acknowledged the logic of this. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. She was no longer there. ’ ‘Certainly that is true. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy.
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