“I would like to go home,” she cried, “to please her. "I love you like a son, and will follow you like a dog. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. Saviour's Church. “I don’t see why not,” he answered.
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