Whenever someone made her angry, she said, "Thank you."
She didn't thank the person, oh no, and she never said it loud enough to be heard.
But she said it, and as she was saying it, she always knew she would survive.
That is, survive her anger, live longer than her anger.
She would outlive her anger.
Already the anger was not hers, it was someone else's, and now, she was just walking barefoot on a mound of soft clay and ice--mmm, anger! mmm, ice cream!
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