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Mackie Flush Hinge - Brass Plated 64mm. Flush Hinge. Self close cabinet hinge. Piano Hinge. DB Engineering Butterfly Hinge. DB Engineering Bullet Hinge 16 x mm. They get tired of all the sunlight and sweetness people bring through here. Not this house, not this conversation, not those shoes you're wearing — which are several years out of style if you're trying to reacclimatize yourself to the ways of your peers, and are not proper mourning shoes if you're trying to hold fast to your recent past — and not either one of us.
Were you in an Underworld or a Netherworld? You can't have been in an Afterlife. No one comes back from those. Nancy gaped at her, mouth moving silently as she tried to find her voice. The old woman said those things — those cruelly impossible things — so casually, like she was asking after nothing more important than Nancy's vaccination records.
Eleanor's expression transformed, turning soft and apologetic. I'm afraid I have a tendency to do that.
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I went to a Nonsense world, you see, six times before I turned sixteen, and while I eventually had to stop crossing over, I never quite learned to rein my tongue back in. You must be tired from your journey, and curious about what's to happen here. Is that so? I can show you to your room as soon as I know where you fall on the compass. I'm afraid that really does matter for things like housing; you can't put a Nonsense traveler in with someone who went walking through Logic, not unless you feel like explaining a remarkable amount of violence to the local police.
They do check up on us here, even if we can usually get them to look the other way. It's all part of our remaining accredited as a school, although I suppose we're more of a sanitarium, of sorts.
I do like that word, don't you? She was ashamed to hear her voice come out in a tinny squeak, even as she was proud of herself for finding it at all.
Eleanor's face softened further. I know what you've been going through — where you've been. I went through something a long time ago, when I came back from my own voyages. This isn't a place for lies or pretending everything is all right. We know everything is not all right.
If it were, you wouldn't be here. Where did you go? Just answer. Nancy froze again, staring into space as if she could see her voice hanging there, shining garnet-dark and perfect in the air. Then she swallowed, still not chasing away the dryness, and said, "It was I was looking for a bucket in the cellar of our house, and I found this door I'd never seen before.
When I went through, I was in a grove of pomegranate trees. I thought I'd fallen and hit my head. I kept going because Because the air had smelled so sweet, and the sky had been black velvet, spangled with points of diamond light that didn't flicker at all, only burned constant and cold.
Why was I sent here?
Because the grass had been wet with dew, and the trees had been heavy with fruit. Because she had wanted to know what was at the end of the long path between the trees, and because she hadn't wanted to turn back before she understood everything. Because for the first time in forever, she'd felt like she was going home, and that feeling had been enough to move her feet, slowly at first, and then faster, and faster, until she had been running through the clean night air, and nothing else had mattered, or would ever matter again —.
The question was meaningless. Nancy shook her head. I was there for years. I didn't want to come back. The old woman's perfume smelled of dandelions and gingersnaps, a combination as nonsensical as everything else about her.