He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. Michelle winked at her and left to join the gathering of seats in the center of the theater. Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. Love is one thing and friendship quite another.
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