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Sunday, August 29, 2010


and he played with his fingers. the same fingers that gripped at the handle of his sword, firm and strong and confident. the same fingers that shook the hand of his lord and king. the same fingers he used to pluck the daisy from the garden, and give it to me. his face was never perfect, but his voice seeped, and his fingers were warm against mine when he said, "you've been traded for gold, your whole life through...so here i am, to keep you."

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