Sometimes, the loneliness burned through her, and it burned through her now. She finished the tea, ate a light breakfast, and tended to such chores as she had to tend to that morning, as guests checked out or ate breakfast or presented questions about where to go and what to do today.
They all went on their way. But not me, Aisling thought. All the wide world is stamped in the little passport in my nightstand, but I’ll never leave Clifden again.
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