She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. A smile flickered upon her lips as she glanced towards Brendon, who was very serious indeed. Wood, leaping from the bed. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman.
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