So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. Egad! I shall make a good thing of it. As for my past, Michelle, and Michael’s, it is a book of woeful chapters better left unread. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. She threw him his car keys. Saturday mornings at the Beck house were routine, coffee, newspaper, bagels, and Looney Toons in no particular order. . ’ ‘And do not say you made a mull. .
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