They would be partners only in loneliness. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. Each arm of the blouse had the faintest of rings around the elbow, a stain that looked familiar. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked. I can’t forget about your sister. Frequently he would take up a box of talc and send a shower down his back, or fill his palms with the powder and rub his face and arms and hands.
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