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Kindle Notes & Highlights
Frank Sinatra’s voice, the sound of every December. The kind of voice that lets you believe in an alternate world of luxury and elegance and romance and string orchestras.
I walk to the window and stare out at the washing line. The sleeves take turns to reach out to each other as they dance in the air.
I walk to the window and stare out at the washing line. The sleeves take turns to reach out to each other as they dance in the air.
I take a photo on my phone of the jumper and the shirt in case I forget what it feels like to be loved.

