She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. And then you go—and half throttle me. . “Holy shit!” Giggling and snickering was amplified by asbestos tiles and reverberated by metal desks. Mrs. \"You're so strong. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger.
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