We men are like children. Before you know where you are you find yourself in a complication. A queer game this: he could not move directly as in an ordinary case of manhunt. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid. “Then why go out with him, Michelle? Why belabor yourself?” Lucy questioned. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already.
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