Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. These petals! I’ve been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals. “I love you, you know. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. I—In fact, I dislike him extremely. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face.
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