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From the author: He traced the bow of her upper lip with one long finger, a gesture which shocked Ruth and moved her in a way she could not understand. When she closed her eyes she could feel his breath on her ear again. Inside her something like Aunt Min’s voice told her to run for her life.
The dress, when she finds it, is pink. Still pink. It smells richly of lavender, slightly of camphor, an uneasy mixture in the stifling heat of the attic. Ruth sits back on her heels and holds the thing out before her wonderingly. From the style, it would be from before she was married, when she was still living with Aunt Min; the summer she was wild, going out to Coney on the weekends with that girl from her office. She imagines herself in the dress, poised before a mirror.
A door slams...