She turned off the light and approached the window. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. They were filthy after the burial. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. I love you more. To Breanna for believing in this project at every step.
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