’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. His face was white. “I did,” Anna answered. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. .
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