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I managed to shift my attention back to her face as she finished whatever it was she was saying, and I took the bottle back from her and replaced it on the shelf. "I'll read some more," I told her, and she smiled and then got back up. The phone rang and Marisa walked to the front to answer the call.I remained crouched beside the bottles while she returned. "Still looking?" she asked with a sweet smile."The fine print is a little hard to see," I said as I heard another little 'paf'.Marisa looked down at the latest little mouse to hit the floor, and with a little sorrow in her voice said, "I guess this litter is being rejected."I said "Hmmm?"She said, "I'm cleaning out a mouse cage, one of our hamsters had a litter a few days ago, and the mother is pushing some of the little ones away, while I've got the sides off, she's pushing them over the edge."I noticed a few shavings drift down to the floor next to the little victim."These pinkies won't survive."She turned to grab something above. Only his lower legs werent touching me because hes 65 tall. We were making out, his arm still wrapped around me. His hand began to reach for my breasts under my shirt. His other fingers outlining my wet pussy. I wrapped my arms around his neck, breathing softly as I felt his dick poke poke my thigh. I blushed and I felt him smile. Sex made us both uncomfortable, it was sort of a joke between us. Until I let Paul fuck me, then Caleb started avoiding the subject altogether. This was the first time he touched me in three weeks. I didnt know what exactly changed his mind, but I was glad to have him back. Can I? His question brought me back, and I knew what he was getting at. Im not sure, Caleb. Im scared of us changing. I dont want to reget you, Caleb. I love you, and I dont want that to change. Bethany, you know I love you. But after what you did with Paul, I wasnt sure if I could say that outloud anymore. But you know what? I can. I really can. Remember when we first started dating, I.
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She saw the weariness in his form. She thought she saw a touch of sadness as well. Suddenly, an image of the sweater flashed in her mind. She knew she had to tell him. ‘Mr. Graham,’ Noelle said, once he had paid and gathered up his purchases. ‘Yes,’ he replied slowly turning his head. ‘I do know where one other item from that bag has gone.’ ‘Oh?’ ‘Yes,’ Noelle said, color rising up her pale neck. ‘I bought it myself.’ ‘You did?’ Alexander asked, genuinely baffled. ‘Yes,’ Noelle said, ‘I bought a white sweater for my brother.’ Noelle saw joy gleam brightly in his eyes only to fade again. She could not stand to see the sorrow return to such lovely blue eyes. ‘It seems the sweater means a lot to you,’ she said slowly. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it does. My mother made it for me when she was dying of cancer last year.’ ‘Oh,’ Noelle said, her own eyes misting, the vision of the dream casket suddenly returning. ‘Oh,’ she repeated, ‘I am so sorry for your loss. I would be happy to return the sweater.

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