She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. They pressed more insistently, forcing her lips open. Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. One particularly humiliating thing came out— humiliating for me. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face.
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