She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. But it was clear she was in no mood for Teddys. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. ’ ‘Je m’en moque. Wouldn't take my advice. “And, you know, you’re altering us all.
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