Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem. She feasted reluctantly, partly out of wonder at the new function of her often elongated canines. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory.
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