If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. Not for me. The applause was uproarious at the end of the concert.
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