She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke. “Will you say what you have to say, please, and go. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. I was—I was a corespondent. It’s just life, pure life, life nascent, running clear and strong. “Put her in the trunk.
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