The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. He stepped back further. The tears flowed faster. Suppose our proper place is a shrine. I want to be with you. She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of. That's the way she strikes me. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. ” “Friendship and love being separate things.
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