’ ‘I thought you were dead,’ Melusine confided. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. Their lovemaking became a whole new realm for her as he was experienced as he was subtle. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice.
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