It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. All who lived there aspired to be something greater, all who lived there had hope, even the slaves! Oh, Lucia, if you could have seen the Parthenon, or attended the plays at the Athaneum, you would know why I loved it there.
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