The house was eerily silent, which alerted her to the idea that someone might be listening. But Jack and his companion were already gone. She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers. It was so easy to forget the imminent threats of being discovered during times of peace. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter.
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