But it was her proof. It never is. I do not wish to blow off a head, you understand. I don’t see any good in life if it hasn’t got you in it. I think that I have become a drug drinker. Her tears dissipated as she began to convulse, completely devoid of any spare fluid. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. Nevertheless, she was no fool, and she knew that they could easily break loose and cause her to fall. "She was mine before you ever saw her.
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