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a woman in magenta in a window. Henry James stopsin the white bowl. On my lap isMaggie Verver, whispering over and over. I listen to another woman (less innocent) vermilion. Her affair, like my friend’s, is with a womanWhen she leavesI write it all down. Everythingwith secrets. I never tella tale without a sin. A glance slowly. Looking at backs.