”“Yes, I’m a picture for an artist to paint, all right,” Susan said, looking distracted. Hell, he was terrified. The cat closed its milky gray-green eyes in ecstasy. She tried to pull away and his hands tightened their hold, pulling her against him.
He landed on his knees, scrambled to his feet, and staggered back downwind, coughing and retching, eyes red and streaming. “Oh, my lovely one,” she murmured, lifting it out. The wind howled high and lonesome, carrying big drifts of gritty dust under a cloudless dark blue sky. ”“And so it should.
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