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And Behind the Glass A Desert
By M.R. Chandler Uncorking the wine bottle, he poured. He walked over to where she sat on the sofa and handed her one of the glasses. She held it by the stem using three fingers. Nervous, he said to himself. Standing there, M. Haught observed her, her hair the color of milked down coffee, her [...]
1Nov2010 | admin | 1 comment | Continued