Some days, his eyes were green. ‘What Frenchman would that be, missie? We ain’t let no one escape. 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. There was no answer, just grunting, so she repeated the question in Latin, then in Greek, to which Rhea responded. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness.
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