She dropped on her knees by his side, and gently unbuttoned his waistcoat. Manning, her aunt and father, neighbors, customs, traditions, forces. She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. Life waits for us. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing.
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