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Margot stood alone. She was a very frail girl who looked as if she had been lost in the rain for years and the rain had washed out the blue from her eyes and the red from her mouth and the yellow from her hair.
She remembered the sun no one else did or believed her. "It's like a penny," she said once, eyes closed."No it's not!" the children cried."It's like a fire," she said, "in the stove." "You're lying, you don't remember!" cried the children.
They surged about her, caught her up and bore her, protesting, and then pleading, and then crying, back into a tunnel, a room, a closet, where they slammed and locked the door.
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