Lorna was calming down, but still tense. While she spoke, she picked leaves from a bush, squishing them and staining her fingers with chlorophyll. She stared at the ground. I took a dish from the iron table and began to eat the orange rice, while Lorna continued her monologue hardly aware of my presence.
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so does the stone by Ángela Sánchez de Vera is licensed under a Creative Commons Reconocimiento-NoComercial-CompartirIgual 3.0 Unported License.