I’d worked so hard to get her alone, but in the end, Perdie built her own solitude. Grief has a way of doing that. When most of you need community to survive, you withdraw, retreat, like a dumb beast who prefers to die untouched rather than wrapped in the solace of those who loved it. Even in that forlornness, though, you hope for something, some comfort, some answer. And I am a marvellous peddler of somethings.
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