“I love you. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands.
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This video was uploaded to southmsnightout.com on 06-06-2024 09:01:45
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