In the midst of this light stood a young woman. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. She learned that she could orgasm four or five times in a day as they toyed with each other and slept entire days afterward without feeling a single pang of guilt. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. My only love is for my poor lost son. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly.
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