The Same Street
Clarissa knew the street before she knew her own name. Wisteria Lane ran south from the Thames, a narrow corridor of Georgian townhouses built in the 1820s, their brick faces weathered to the color of dried blood. Number 27 was in the middle of the terrace, three floors of rooms that slanted and sighed, with a basement kitchen that smelled of coal dust and boiled cabbage no matter how many...
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