’ It took several frustrating moments, working at the protrusions of the carving down the side of the bookshelves, tugging at leaves, pushing at flowers. It melted her heart. ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections.
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