Instead, we were fed without food. We fed ourselves with surreptitious glances of the Headmaster's Daughter, every morning. She was hotter than a bowlful of steaming grits. And, I do wonder... What is she having for breakfast these days. Or, who is having her, these days, at age 70-plus. Once cannot go home, again. If I could, then, she would have been a very tasty western breakfast, even without the bacon.
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