“Elise! What is it? Mr. French! What’s wrong with you guys?” She pulls desperately on Aloin’s jacket. “Talk to me!” she begs, her eyes filling with tears. “Somebody, say something—anything. Even you,” she pleads, turning to Veronique. “Go on, say something French. Scold me for messing up. Please?” Maxzyne waits, but there is no response. She is alone.
Maxzyne picks up the delicate shawl that has slipped through Veronique’s frozen fingers and landed on the floor. She carefully places it around the mannequin’s shoulders. She sniffles, trying to read the woman’s proud, frozen face. “I know you’re in there. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it!” she begs. “Right away this time. I promise!”
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