She pawed at him, her hunger for his body making her dizzy with anticipation. She had found it in 1988, the year of the stock market crash. The proceedings of this faction were narrowly watched by a vigilant and sagacious administration. Unless—would he hide from them as he had hidden from her? It was a big house, he said. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. ” The doctor looked at her thoughtfully. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. Doctors constantly admonished and offered weak consolation that most would have been hurt much worse from the type of fall he took. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free.
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