No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. Everything, my dear, everything!. They are their mother’s sons. ” A momentary bitterness crept into Anna’s tone. And it’s like the petals falling from a flower. When Gianfrancesco came to call this time, she was excited and ready.
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