There, hanging among Ann Veronica’s more normal clothing, was a skimpy dress of red canvas, trimmed with cheap and tawdry braid, and short—it could hardly reach below the knee. Occasionally she would be missing a sock or a bra, so she took to storing those things in her gym locker. “Is that all you have to say?” Michelle challenged her. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. " "I see," remarked Kneebone.
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