Kutipan
Its scars are worn now; the years have smoothed them to dark ripples in the golden wood.
They stood for a long time like that, his weight heavy on her. When her back began to ache, she eased him away, kissing him in solace. His cheeks were soft, like a baby’s.
He made her feel safe. He did. But something about the burglary niggled at her.
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