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he felt a tiny shudder go through him, as though his soul had a toothache.
she saw Shelly Small as a woman who suffered only from the most common complaint of all: Life had simply not been what she thought it would be.
She had recently, though, had fantasies of what they called “going normal.” Having a house and a husband and children and a garden. The quietness of all that. But what would she do with all the feelings that streamed down her like small rivers?
