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Summary
Elliot flinches when Vera lifts one of his big hands to cradle the other’s jaw, but doesn't pull away. “Poor Elliot,” Vera expresses, fingertips like white-hot irons where they dig into the soft parts of his neck, the tender skin behind his ear. They burn like his mother's cigarettes used to. “Don't you get it? I am your home."
Series
- Part 1 of matthew 5:5
