Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. She had killed the McCloskeys after they had witnessed her making a kill.
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