She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. His movements became quicker, and she made grinding motions with her hips that began to please her as well. Dead or alive, I'll have him. Anna, why will you persist in this single-handed combat with life?” “Don’t!” she cried. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. The doll she had never owned, the cat and the dog that had never been hers: here they were, strangely incorporated in this sleeping man.
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