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Her snapping voice in my ear acquired a strange familiarity over those hours, her careless traducing of my character came to feel almost companionable by the end

His screen saver was a picture of them, in matching soccer jerseys, standing in front of a freshly creosoted fence

Already, I was feeling nostalgic for those prelapsarian weeks before she knew my name.

“I like this. You look like all my borstal fantasies made flesh.”

the ineluctable rightness of our love