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-- A Few Weeks Later or So --- --- 26th of November, 1964 ---
The seasonal progress became a victim to the eagerly anticipating winter with its relentless inklings of chilly climate and the forthcoming profusely delightful snowfall. Thanksgiving slowly but surely bled into the calendar's remark and corresponding to the current day.
Despite the circumstances of Thanskgiving and corresponding to the absolute reality of the orthodox traditions of Thanskgiving, Timothy wasn't getting along with his family and the sole person whom he could count on somehow was you and somewhat Judy. Moreover, Thanksgiving's orthodox traditions weren't objecting your actual requirements to be parallel at all. You didn't have any family to remark the traditional American holiday with anybody else except your friends Barb, Frederic and Dana.
As the hours of the wee morning unceasingly delightful bled into the sunrise's twilight and the late autumn gigantic, roundish gilt sun climbing insistingly, dully the palish horizon as its profoundly long, mirthfully elastic sunrays beamingly filtered the living beings and the esthetically lavish late autumn prospect, in the meanwhile, the pious sister of the church and the ambitious Monsignor' figures occupied the austerely atmosphere-clad office of Judy and discussing formally professional their plans for the patients' supplements along with the staff members' earnings and the extraordinarily merry benefits the staff members numbered as security guards, orderlies and nuns would earn beneficially.
It has been a few weeks after the ill-famed Nazi war criminal's arrest and the trial's foreshadowed sequel was potently anticipated by the top witnesses like Judy, Timothy and Mary Eunice as plaintiffs to object the senior doctor of science's sheer innocence. Furthermore, the sheer upsetness despondently contagious crawling icily in the pit of the juvenile woman of the cloth's stomach was indisputably unimaginable in her case. The rich medley of unconditional heartbreak, misery, bewilderment and brillant betrayal blended its own cauldron of toxic liquid boiling and cooking inside her very emotions and the depths of her nubile muscles and frail bones.
What the juvenile woman of the cloth could barely even put a finger on realizing that her once favorite doctor that pearly cherished her pure, childlike innocence, his actual capability of committing the real epitome of heinously unforgivable, paging up his rich criminal history. The genuine notion of her vividly childlike naivety to unmask his heinously hair-rising character she has never been able to get to know or at least catch a bold glimpse of somberly contrasted the Bostonian's brilliant intelligence and her lavish swarm of doubts, fluttering in the form of ferociously howling beehive of bees, buzzing lowly incessantly and composing their ode.
Jude and Timothy really abhorred with each ounce of their very beings to behold their ideal daughter model was beyond physically and emotionally agonized even severely afflicted with heartache due to the unmasked real identity of Arthur Arden. Last but not least, the young blonde was roughly struggling to embrace with open arms the absolute reality.
