“Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. “That is where my cervix should be. I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. Capes. Petite build, like herself. ‘No, no, I am convinced your very first theory was right. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. I shall still believe in you.
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