I know that in my heart I would take whatever he gave. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. He did not spend more time with her. I myself have had the pleasure of dining with her.
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