He will return, and you shall be awaiting his arrival!” When her own underarms and groin turned pink, then blue, then black, she confined herself to bed. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. “I regret that you should ever have proposed it,” he went on. The dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated. Sebastian traveled at seventy, eighty, then one-hundred down the freeway. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees.
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