There is something inconglomerate about us. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. The audience was made up of parents, teachers, and a few other curious folks from town, all sitting hushed in anticipatory silence as the school orchestra assembled onstage.
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