"Turn...around," he says slowly, sternly. He is seated, not far from her, watching with avid intent. She doesn't move, just stands there staring back at him. Frozen. Intimidated. With a downward angling index finger, he makes a swirling motion as if to provide a visual aid to his request. " Tuuurn ." The single syllable draws out with fluid serenity. She remains still, hands clasped,
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