Directly outside Thorne's window is a revving chainsaw and a tree munching machine eating Ficus branches yet she's sleeping soundly in her crib. Thorne is equally impervious to wailing sirens, Harley motorcycles, and quarreling lovers (and I don't mean me and Steve).
She does wake up when a pin drops.
That last sentence is a lie.
If it were true, I'd cry.
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