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Her mother was a very tired woman. If you looked at her long enough, your eyes would begin to droop and you would feel your mouth stretching out into a vicious long yawn, and your conversations would slow to a crawl. Her mother had gotten married very early, falling hopelessly in lust with a lazy boy who would never amount to much, according to those standards. But her mother was blessed, or cursed, depending on the way you looked at it, with child-love. You see, she had never had her heart broken, so she never absorbed the break and her heart never had the chance to grow back stronger and wiser.