She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. “My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this. She dare not risk it. No matter how much you tell me, you will always keep something back. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone.
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