MARY HYDRA HEAD
That's what she said her name
was, and had always been. So,
I believed her; for I had no other
reason not to have faith in what
she said - about herself. Why
then not? It wouldn't matter to
me. Over on Moore Street, the
same people are sitting around
the same outdoor table, and
probably having the same food
and drink. Who am I to contradict
whatever it is they wish to do?
The one girl, with the yellow hair,
has the flowers in the table vase
blocking her face. It's difficult to
even imagine what she must look
like. I have so little to go on.
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