The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. The baby boy was delivered in a sea of black blood, born dead and blue, and strangled by plague. She glanced at him. All this juncture, a thundering crash was heard against the side of the bridge. It will take a month to clean up.
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