The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. " "What has he done?" "What did he have to drink over here last night?" "Not even water. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. “I’m next, Mr. I know you’re young but I think I, no, I know that I love you. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight.
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