Her mouth is still warm from kissing that anvil salesman, her nose still full of his vile aftershave, the smell lingering on the cool July air, her chin stinging slightly from his rude stubble.
The world gone all blurry before her eyes and rippling under her feet. The wind knocked out of her, leaving her in an utter daze, tongue heavy. Chest heavy.
A sense of trepidation rising in her throat.
She barely hears the four gentlemen of the school board singing as they walk on by, their once-squabbling voices arranged in perfect harmony.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees them lift their hats in greeting to her. She doesn't turn her heard in response; it doesn't register.
Their tuneful melody fades away as her mother's own shrill voice pierces the bubble, her heavy tread accompanied by the door swinging shut behind her.
"Marian--Marian! Marian, dear, who was you talkin' to just--"
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