There isn’t. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. There are unwritten laws governing human conduct. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered.
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