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It was he, then, who sent papers and writing instruments scattering across the table with a flicker of his eyes, happy to hear the noise of them landing against the floor and filling the silence she’d left behind.
her family, who confused her intellectual inclinations with a wholesome disposition. They saw her explosions, when they took place, as a child’s tantrums and could not imagine she was like the rivers and streams and forests she loved, riotous and luxuriant.
