Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. She admired his backside as he fetched a blue towel from his bathroom. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. The change has given man one good thing he never had before,” he said.
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