After more of this redundant lunacy, Felicity breezed downstairs beautifully made up, coiffed, and smelling of jasmine or something all too alluring, kissed the kids, and muttered a brisk goodbye that I just barely heard over the sound of my scouring. She obviously must have forgotten that I was to rub shoulders with royalty this morning, because her only words to me were, “Can you strain that broth I made last night?” As the front door slammed I prayed for her train to be delayed.
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