She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. There’s stories, too, about his demonstrator, Capes Something or other. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. “Who decorated the school like this?” She asked, peering up at the multicolored banners that hung everywhere. I decided to go in and wait. And there arose too, a background of shouts.
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