Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly. He recoiled from the sting. ’ He could just see the glare. I never want you to be ashamed of me. But you couldn't. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin.
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