As he moved about upon the starling, Mr. But Jonathan was not to be deterred. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. She exited solemnly, retrieving and carrying Michelle’s unconscious figure into the forest like a reluctant bridegroom. She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner. What a pig she was.
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