That night Ulysses lay next to her until she fell asleep. He looked about at her room. She’d chosen it because of the red and green wallpaper that had images of macaws and trees, a right ol’ jungle. These were the decisions she, as an eight-year-old, made. The way her mind worked, what interested her. Over there, a hook on which hung her swimming costume and diving mask. The side table where she kept her sunglasses and sketchbook. The dried shell of a sea urchin on the dressing table. Her guitar at the foot of her bed. The sign they’d made together to advertise the pensione. These things are
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