Courtlaw,” she remarked. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. He envied her a little. Courtlaw. My Mom’s stomach has a lot of bad scars that make it look all ropy and weird. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed.
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