The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. ” Shari immediately commenced a strip search of her own closet, tossing on the bed a pair of tight jeans and an even tighter sweater. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. “No, I’d like to. He still wore his hat, to show that the days of miracles and Christ being civil to sinners are over forever.
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