Pierre Auguste Renoir Sleeping Girl paintingPierre Auguste Renoir Dance at Bougival I paintingThomas Kinkade The Spirit of New York painting
Waiting for him when he returned from the graveyard: a copperand--brass lamp, his renewed inheritance. He went into Changez's study and closed the door. There were his old slippers by the bed: he had become, as he'd foretold, "a pair of emptied shoes". The bedclothes still bore the imprint of his father's body; the room was full of sickly perfume: sandalwood, camphor, cloves. He took the lamp from its shelf and sat at Changez's desk. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he rubbed briskly: once, twice, thrice.
The lights all went on at once.
Zeenat Vakil entered the room.
"O God, I'm sorry, maybe you wanted them off, but with the blinds closed it was just so sad." Waving her arms, speaking loudly in her beautiful croak of a voice, her hair woven, for once, into a waist-length ponytail, here she was
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