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But it’s love you should’ve had when you were tiny and I didn’t give it to you. ” Michelle looked puzzled. “Oh Christ! How old were you?” “Just—well, I was young. There was a loose button on that coat, and I want to sew it on. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out.
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