
I must hand it to you: this Ruby Murray stirs up warmthful memories of dinners with missed company.
These fingers are not pointing before a munition; they are anticipating boldest high-fives between buddies.
Facing palms facing palms does not ameliorate that which encumbers but for a slightest moment, when lotion motions for a claws clause that pauses paws.
Matters of the heart that matter merit a melange of manus—vying for vale’s victory—mingling amidst meaningful momentum. ; )
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