They all give me ribbons. Satin ribbons, lace ribbons, velvet ribbons. My only treasure in the darkness of this cellar. I'm expected to feel grateful, but I know they're just ashamed of themselves. Because back home, in their fashionable districts, their own children remind them of what they've done to me. I could make a rope out of my ribbons, and flee. The cellar window is seldom locked. But my power over them is too great to relinquish so soon.
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