The daughters, he had hoped, would be their mother’s care. Taking the wind was her business in life. It took a long two minutes for Michelle to die, and she struggled hard before she was put down. His hair flew out from the sides of his head like black bats from a belfry, it was unruly and long. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement. That’s how things are; that’s the order of the world. I am gambling on his intuition.
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