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“I feel my need fracture like innocence. Delicate as a fever-chill—as the hot flush of blood that rushes beneath the cold rime of my skin—I buck, and I crack across my chest.”
“I feel my need fracture like innocence. Delicate as a fever-chill—as the hot flush of blood that rushes beneath the cold rime of my skin—I buck, and I crack across my chest.”