She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. “Have you turned him yet?” Michelle whispered hotly, trying not to raise the volume of her voice. If she spoke to a policeman she did not know what would ensue. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. .
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