She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. “On the stage? Yes. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. " Ruth stood with drawn brows; she was trying to recall. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times.
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