” It occurred to her that she had never seen her father dining out before, never watched him critically as an equal. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. He seemed too noisy. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. I wish that it worked. “We are not going the right way,” she exclaimed. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup.
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