Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower. ” He shrugged his shoulders. “Who decorated the school like this?” She asked, peering up at the multicolored banners that hung everywhere. “Fuck you, Julian Rimbauer. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. This was irregular.
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