Reapers Of Suffering
Marie
Tamir could not imagine his beloved doing black witchcraft.
Beloved ... what a warm word! Native! You pronounce it to yourself and it seems as if your mother’s arms are embracing, and in your shoulders you can immediately guess such a force, as if you can level the sky with the earth, if only the one that makes your heart skip a beat remains nearby. But how to overcome suffocating shyness, how to tell the most beautiful girl in the world that you have loved her for a long time? As soon as I saw her for the first time - shy, timid, with a shadow from lowered eyelashes on her cheeks - I lost my peace. And only she, her smile, her voice, make you grit your teeth, not give free rein to the shame
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