It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia. “She has lost something,” he declared, “something which brought the men in crowds around the stage at the ‘Ambassador’s.
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