“Well, anyhow, consider it open. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. It is your own choice, isn’t it?” She nodded. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. “I get that a lot. “I came directly I was disengaged,” Anna answered. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. Rain changed to hail, then 154 sleet, then snow.
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