I had a perfect shoal of callers. I am tired, and I want to be alone. She pointed. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. Oh, I grew fond of you as the years went by. “I am frightened now. . I was ready to wager that your name would have marched with one of them.
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