Trafika Europe 9/10 - UK in Europe

JoMazelis

patted her warm little face which he found to be as soft and smooth as the delicate skin on the inside of a woman’s thigh. ‘Yes, tell Julienne I said you could go.’ The next day Julienne grudgingly unlocked the apartment door and watched as Amanda disappeared down the stairs to the street. There was very little traffic in that part of the town; the odd automobile, sometimes an army truck, a horse-drawn carriage or a hand wagon pulled slowly by tired country people Amanda crossed the street and when she reached the pavement outside the florist’s she turned to look for her window in the apartment block opposite.

She saw it almost straight away even though there were many windows. Her curtains were red, the brightest red there was. She had picked them herself; back before Mama got so sick. Before she’d left her room Amanda had put her favourite doll on the window ledge facing out so that the doll could watch her. She saw her doll standing behind the glass, with the red curtains on either side, and remembered the ballet she had gone to see when she was little, Coppelia . Amanda waved at the doll, wishing, but also fearing, that the doll would wave back. She didn’t, of course, but Amanda felt glad to sense the doll’s eyes watching her; nothing could hurt her as long as the doll

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