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Page 14: Broken Hearts' Club.
Afternoon skies pervaded the castillated landmark. Time ran its course, sunnyness quickly losing some of it's alotted lifespan, evening hours creeping up on the edges of the horizon like conspiratorial whispers. Soft sighing—eminating from nearby the porchway steps—Burke gazed upwards at the now dusking heavens, along with the cute counting cloud. That sad look of mournful regret afixed on her countenance, unshakeable in the reflection visible on her open compact mirror's glass. Silk black hair and silky eyelashes rustling in the cooly blowing wind, she fought back the tears dripping down her teardrop-shaped nose. Gingerly fingering the tattered love note, she dared not remove it from the mirror's pinching edging—lest the last shred of love in her life be carried away, lost both it and her broken heart forever. Heart-shaped as she was, she had only sighing sadness to give, though she found a reserved respite in this haunted home. Quietly closing her compact, the black broken heart was back at her side—beating slowly in time with her own—as she retrieved out of her swaying dress punctuated by the punched-out half-hearts (her personal emblem) the marble 14 she would gift the Count as thanks for understanding her plight, not asking too many questions, simply allowing her to find some semblance of hushed happiness here.