On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. Be kind to her. The Flash Ken XV. Ms. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Something in her tone made him look up. It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused.
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