The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. She auditioned and got a summer job teaching violin at the Mozart summer music camp for children, catching the luckiest of breaks. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it. But I see now.
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