Northbound, Spadina streetcar
Caucasian woman, late 20s, with long blonde hair, wearing brown hooded sweater, grey scarf, and black jeans.
The Time Machine, H. G. Wells (Phoenix Pick)
Page 97:
Upon the hill-side were some thirty or forty Morlocks, dazzled by the light and heat, and blundering hither and thither against each other in their bewilderment. At first I did not realize their blindness, and struck furiously at them with my bar, in a frenzy of fear, as they approached me, killing one and crippling several more. But when I had watched the gestures of one of them groping under the hawthorn against the red sky, and heard their moans, I was assured of their absolute helplessness and misery in the glare, and I struck no more of them.
Four-years-old, she sat on the edge of the tarmac, transferring stalks of unwashed rhubarb back and forth between a large stainless steel bowl of water and another filled with white sugar, while her brother burned ants through a magnifying glass with the quiet contemplation she’d only seen on her mother’s face when cutting coupons, or painting her toe nails.
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