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He had told her where to find it, second floor, left wall. In front of her hung a framed painting, one she recognized immediately. The slanted rooftops, the vibrant blooms, the manicured grounds, a young girl on the crest of the hill. It was the landscape of her youth, she was the girl. The small card beside the frame listed the artist by initials only, per her request, her mother never desired such recognition or acclaim.