Each time I reached over her I would scrape the palm of my hand against the jagged end of her femur.
Ours is a hope which demands nothing of time, or earth, but seeks its all in the world to come. It is of this hope that we are about to speak.
Each time I reached over her I would scrape the palm of my hand against the jagged end of her femur.
Ours is a hope which demands nothing of time, or earth, but seeks its all in the world to come. It is of this hope that we are about to speak.