My Great Uncle Bob pointed out Lib  by’s eyes to me later that afternoon.  As she was ushering guests, in and out, running going back and forth, and yammering to Celeste about nothing important, I watched her eyes.  Her forehead had been stretched up, making her appear as though she were in a constant state of surprise.  But even stranger was the way the stretching had caused the whites of her eyes to stand out above her pupils.

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