When we walked slowly to her house, Kenna said we’d have to wait a minute for her to get back to work. She gave me a cold tile and a glass of water. She allowed me to sit down on the bed in her room. I wound like a frantic woman, I sat on the bed where Kenna was asleep every night, and her satin nightgown was lying on the dresser. Imaginations got me into trouble. I have not melted my head from falling, but from Kenna. I had to lie down. The whole bed smelled like she.

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