The diamond wasn't anything amazing. That's what made it so painful.
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Bartlette emitted a low-level but steady whine from her mother's arms. She had sprouted a tooth, and along with it a temperature and a rash on her bottom.
Love is like a personalized parking space. You can put any car you want in there, but there's only one name on the asphalt.
Wine, cheese, olives, more wine. They talked. He listened. She felt tipsy. She knew she was really enjoying herself, enjoying being herself.
Ferguson had a hard poo. He grunted on the toilet like a baby mastodon. Unnh! Unnh! The poo wouldn't come out, and so his grunts grew more impassioned. And desperate.
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