" "Vot o' that?" chuckled Abraham. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible. ‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths. “Anna!” she repeated. “In all fairness,” she thought to herself as she coaxed his mouth toward her left nipple. It was also cold, and dark, for there had been no time to light the lantern. I’m sorry. The true creative mind is always returning to battle; defeats are only temporary setbacks. She wanted to know.
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