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Post by Grace Cantor on Jun 17, 2015 8:16:55 GMT
"It is to you. I accept that. And it is important to you?"
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Post by Desmond Warren on Jun 17, 2015 8:17:14 GMT
"I dream about it every night. Yes. Yes it is."
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Post by Grace Cantor on Jun 17, 2015 8:18:28 GMT
"But you accept that it came from inside yourself. A bargain you have decided upon for yourself. You cannot blame any imaginary figure for your decisions. That would be cowardly, Desmond. And you are not a coward. Are you?"
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Post by Desmond Warren on Jun 17, 2015 8:18:39 GMT
"No!"
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Post by Grace Cantor on Jun 17, 2015 8:19:49 GMT
"You're doing very well. I'll leave you for a while to recover your composure. I didn't mean to make you angry. I will be back in a few hours."
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Post by Desmond Warren on Jun 17, 2015 8:20:11 GMT
"No.. please don't go. I'm sorry I got angry. I want to continue."
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Post by Grace Cantor on Jun 17, 2015 8:28:13 GMT
"I will be back in a few hours. You stay here. Nice and quiet."
Grace Cantor rose from her chair and turned away walking with a measured tread toward the door of the chamber. Behind her the boy sat upright in a hard wooden high backed chair. Around him hanging from thin chains were panes of glass, squares and rectangles of various sizes, glinting in the harsh light of the white walled room. The panes formed a labyrinth of irregular shapes and they moved very gently as the woman passed by them.
She stepped outside and closed the door drawing across three heavy bolts on the outside.
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