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The Great Escape On the full moon she hangs her nightgown on the line to see herself as a ghost. The long sleeves wave back at her. From the dark window of the sewing room she watches the hem lift in the breeze, giving a glimpse of nothing.
Deep in the house her infant lies bare-assed on a blue blanket, gurgling with delight. It looks like he’s skydiving. Before him stands a solid oak door and the sun squeezing through the keyhole.
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