1105 2 1
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“What would you get? What should you give a lady who’s one hundred for her birthday?”
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124641
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I’m squatting naked over the hand mirror, feet cold on the terrazzo floor, looking at my winking arsehole.
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111122
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Her memory was a faded pastiche of the past, and indeed the present sat uneasily in the middle of the dreams that governed her mind; so it was that often she would forget the day, the time, the year.
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