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The boy-her personal altar boy-had come upon her soft spot, unconsciously, and after a few vigorous shudders she collapsed onto another soft spot and lay there, still, entwined with the sweaty blankets. She reached a small infinity and smiled. His mouth was agape in wonder of the beautiful, simple body before him, and his mind imagined her daily activities, glorified: breathing, crying, running, thinking, talking, swimming, eating, drinking, urinating, masturbating, giving birth to a child, dying, loving, sleeping. Currently sleeping. On the seventh day, she rested.
And time stopped and moon-bits rained and eyes closed and tides died and the child within her stirred and flowers remembered and flowers remembered and flowers remembered and all was elegant and life began anew. Again.
He looked straight at her and saw his reflection. From the edge of his mouth, a crystalline sphere appeared to form invincible, rolled down the plump pale hemisphere of his lips, and left a trail of its body as the saliva hit the innocent inner thigh with a highly emotional, eerily silent, splash. |
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