“I should very much like to kiss you now.” “That is a lie.” Still smiling. And I, now frowning: “Why would someone lie about that?” “If you really wanted to kiss me, you would have kissed me, not—” I kissed her. Dear Will, I pray this finds you well. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. “Will,” she whispered. “I should very much like for you to kiss me again.” And I did, and the thing turned upon itself inside the burlap, and scratch, scratch against the heavy glass and you must harden yourself to such things and there was no room for love or pity or any other silly human thing and
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