Strange to recall details like hunger, all these years on, but she can, if required, add weight and colour: say that the smells of other lunches kept reaching her desk – a hot soup warmed up in the Station House kitchen, or a spicy concoction carried in from a nearby stall – and describe how they tormented her all afternoon; explain how famished she was by the time evening rolled around, and she was able to eat. This would not be lying; would be mild fictionalising, at worst. Such embellishments provide context, and encourage hidden details to emerge – the past lies behind a wall, but
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