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‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. ” Ennison was dismayed. She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture. 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. Drawing the pay of life and then not living.
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