[ She had dreaded that he'd heard it, as though that might finalize it, and yet for him to not makes it somehow worse. There is nothing more he can tell her, no way to help her understand.
Finally, she looks away, down, and her fingers uncurl. They fan among the folds of her skirt, but they don't ease. There is a tremble from the strain of her stance. ]
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Finally, she looks away, down, and her fingers uncurl. They fan among the folds of her skirt, but they don't ease. There is a tremble from the strain of her stance. ]
It is a prophecy about me.