The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. It feels like I’ve got a snake of mucus stuffing my entire throat, just one big solid rope. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. ’ He paused for the effect of his words to sink in, and then added, ‘Don’t be so ready to show hackle. Perhaps it was loneliness.
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This video was uploaded to probiv.club on 18-05-2024 12:37:45
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