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There was nothing delightful about cutting a man down when he was already on his damn knees.
The draw to her was like a crawl for water after being lost in the blaze of the sun.
But strength did not mean there was no fear. I could stand tall, I could defy my enemies, and I could still be afraid.
Hate me, curse me, I cared little, so long as I was the first thought of her day and the last of her night.
Like he saw every fissure of weakness, every strength and imperfection, and wanted them anyway.
