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Summary
He extended his legs, partly to stretch them, and partly to locate where, exactly, the girl had chosen to nap. He bumped something soft with the end of his left slipper. An arm, perhaps, or a leg. The softness stirred. Like the shifting of a coastline before the island reveals itself to be animal, he thought. Then it slurred:
“Iwashn’tshleefing.”
“Your parents will be wondering where you are,” Johannes replied.
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A concert pianist, a student, and a lazy, late afternoon at the piano.