His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. “It is not possible,” he exclaimed. “Mom, this is the girl I asked to Prom, Lucy. It must be the dawn creeping in. The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. 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.
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