‘Let’s see now. When he was up and about, the idea of flight would return. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. Mr. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned.
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