She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. She was particularly charmed by his theory of friendship. She mentally reprimanded herself to alter her own visage so as not to appear depraved. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. Lonesomeness isn't my worry.
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