It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. . . She could not bear the shame of it. That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously.
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