Devorah

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You never knew, when you took farewell of someone, whether it might be the last time. The least you could do was say you loved them—and she wished she had. She pressed her fingertips to her lips and, as they swung out to go around the first curve, threw a kiss to the distant figure, still standing in the road.
Devorah
This paragraph really brings home time and place of this story. Time to call my loved ones now.
Go Tell the Bees that I Am Gone (Outlander, #9)
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