As she stepped out, she took his arm, already feeling the stiffness set in. Once upright, she felt the glass in her hair shake loose and she turned, distressed, to the car.
One hand on her head, she said, "I'm sorry. I'm sure there's glass in your car now." She was afraid she'd cut the leather.
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One hand on her head, she said, "I'm sorry. I'm sure there's glass in your car now." She was afraid she'd cut the leather.