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... aist, and my hand was pressed against his strong chest. In front of me was his tall nose and handsome face. I saw that he had opened his eyes too. I liked Donald’s eyes. He always had eyes for me.

“Morning, Margaret,” I hear Donald say vaguely, with a hint of laziness that he hadn’t regained consciousness in the morning.

“Morning, Donald.”

Morning time was always precious. We knew we couldn’t stay in bed too long. Especially Donald. He had things to do the entire day. In ...

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