It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. ” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. But at the word “home” she turned again. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his.
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