when I was five. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. “You have a boyfriend! That’s fine by me, it’s your business, but you’d better stop sneaking around because Sheila’s got eyes in the back of her head!” He heard Sheila utter a loud percussive blast of a snore from the master bedroom. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time.
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