The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously. The door leading to the front of the house was stealthily opening. His quiet, kindly smile implied his serene disbelief in any confessible thing. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers.
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