Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. ” She shrugged her shoulders and led him towards a small recess. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. Piercing through every crevice in the clothes, it, in some cases, tore them from the wearer's limbs, or from his grasp.
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