To think, for so long I’d never known true happiness. How foolish I’d been to think I could carve life up into parts and parcel them into neat little boxes on a shelf. I’d massacred any hope of joy, slaughtered newborn happiness before it could ever grow legs and stand tall. I’d condemned chaos, thinking it was the antithesis of everything a proper young woman should work for. Yearn for. How wrong I’d been. Dante had dragged me into the dark depths of his anarchic life and shown me the pleasure to be found in the shadows, the exhilaration of living on the knife’s edge of danger, and the
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