The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant. What you say is probably all true and necessary. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. A curious silence ensued. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. It was hard to resist. “It sounds too ridiculous. Lucy had caught it when it was a millimeter away from hitting her teeth.
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