The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. The bridge was protected on either side by a railing with bannisters placed at wide intervals. She was pensive and thoughtful. “We must go. The rascal will be at work before the morning. ” He fell back in his chair with an expression of tremendous desolation.
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