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Post by scriptamanent on Jul 10, 2012 4:18:11 GMT -5
During the day more and more a certain thought occurs to her:
men, loved and unloved, even the married, usually die first.
She thinks "this is a weird honour, but for whom?"
Instinctively she wonders "Where's Paul?"
Then she imagines his funeral and post mortem emotions run through her heart
like wild horses galloping through virgin land.
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