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. After much clapping, they started. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. Stanley. Shari proceeded to paint, brush, dust, slather, and blot Lucy’s face with makeup. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. " "Peace!" cried the knight, fiercely.
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