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78. The Busy Street

Celine nibbled on a sandwich filled with slices of ham, cheese, and tomato slowly, her face lighting up momentarily as she observed the contents of the sandwich. It was nearly nine in the evening, and I had just finished teaching her the alphabet; now, she had to memorize it for me to test her the next day.

Meanwhile, the banging noises from inside Celine's house still hadn't ceased. At times, I even feared that the shack would collapse because it seemed like Anne was throwing everything she could find. I tried to peek through the window, but the shack's door remained tightly shut, a miracle after being struck by whatever object so fiercely.

Celine also tried to focus on studying, although her eyes occasionally wandered anxiously. I poured her a hot chocolate I had made, hoping it would calm her down for a moment.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes, my mother is usually like this when she's stressed from work. But I'm used to it; she needs a place to vent her anger," Celine replied. Black
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