Fiction
Olivia Robinson was and is much worse than I am. She’s also, in the sense that matters to her and to our world, much greater.
A very Russian turn of events: no solutions, but the trouble passes—so why bring it up?
Is that bizarre? he asked. That such a brief experience of love was too much?
He had Alex now, he thought. He wouldn’t feel those old pangs. But the loneliness greeted him like a—well, not so much like an old friend. But. You know. Like loneliness.
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