[At last. Peaceful, mostly sunny. No sign of the moon, or masks, or costumes.
...And Nephry is moving through the plaza at the pace and with the general stiff gait of an old woman.
Fitting, she thinks.
Near the fountain she sits on a bench, opening the journal on her lap. She's never been one to make announcements too personal, or to call unnecessary
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Did you live somewhere that snowed all the time, Miss Osborne?
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I wonder if anyone's made a list of them all?
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