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Document Type

Fiction

Abstract

A LL RIGHT, so you don't like my poetry." I recrossed my legs. My left foot was going to sleep. "Well, I didn't say that. I just don't understand it." Rosha sat plumply on the couch, sedate, her hands relaxed palm-up in her lap, like the girl in the corny print I'd seen somewhere called Age of Innocence.

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