Your mother, for instance, couldn’t. ‘You can’t prove nothing. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square.
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