The teacher droned on and on about the mournful funerary love of Romeo and Juliet, a tale she had long since tired of. “Round midnight, I think. Lucy did not move, but instead stared straight forward, her eyes focused on the desk where the presiding teacher on duty was supposed to be. “I shot him. " Mrs. . Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken.
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