She felt sharp animal teeth pierce her above her shoulder. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. It was the only way to make the monthly bills. "I wish to overtake Lady Trafford. Winifred screamed. “It’s precious unromantic. ” Lucy spat. "You are my prisoner.
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