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She’d loved Erik — in a way, but it felt like her love was stolen, not given to him. He was a foreign seed planted and rooted in the soil where he didn’t belong, and death was his bloom. She was free. No longer would she worry about her words or how she delivered them, and her body returned to her …
Arpad Nagy
Nevena Pascaleva
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wow, the way you expressed her feelings here...
A writer of evocative fiction and introspective personal essays. Owner of the publication "Tales of Blue".
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