They would forget to feed them as well so I spent a lot of time shoplifting in grocery stores and sifting through garbage behind restaurants. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. Sometimes I try to talk.
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