She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. We are both graduates of Yale. "I don't know what his idea was. He did not have to. Jonathan nodded assent. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. She backed away, amazed as the thing buzzed loudly in the center of the room.
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