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That may have been a mistake.

Alice was a good Catholic girl, at least in all the ways that matter.

My neck started to ache from its constant arch.

The tremors traveling across my skin echoed in my inhale and exhale.

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I tried to rationalize now that maybe this was a good thing that I'd lost the baby.

But then I walked into your bedroom and saw what you were logged into.

I wanted more than just the feather-light sweeps against my skin.

One run-in had been enough.