Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. On the contrary. Otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent. “Only you are the woman I love, and you are in trouble. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. His analytical bent saved him many times, though he was not sensitive to this.
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