I think too much about myself. With this air in our blood, this sunlight soaking us. Such an obvious ruse, but the boys and girls would defend their pride to the bitter end, the facade of study groups during rutting season. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. ’ ‘How shocking,’ Gerald returned, grinning.
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