They even talked about friendship. \" He mumbled, his eyes on her breasts. Hell, my mom hates everyone, don’t take this personally, but she doesn’t like you very much and she isn’t shy about letting me know. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain.
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