Full context: I shrugged. Aside from Andy, I’d told no one about going down on the bus to Pippa’s house, and the secret colored everything, like the afterglow of a dream: tissue-paper poppies, dim light from a guttering candle, the sticky heat of her hand in mine. Tartt, Donna (2013-10-22). The Goldfinch: A Novel (Pulitzer Prize for Fiction) (p. 149). Little, Brown and Company. Kindle Edition.
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