Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. 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. He gave glimpses of possibilities.
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