"But, perhaps, he has not got beyond the room above. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. Lucy, would you like to be my date for the silly little dance they call the Junior Prom?\" There was a pregnant pause as she digested the information. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees.
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