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Summary
“Whatever you need, Carol,” Zosia said, all but cooing in her dulcet tone and muted words. “We’re here for you.”
Without sparing a fraction of connection, Carol neared. Uncoordinated, she climbed properly into Zosia’s lap, settled over now-extended legs like she belonged there. She did, she supposed.
Whatever you need.
Proximity. Closeness. Anything to keep her skin from remembering the loss.
(zosia's company dredges up carol's many, many issues)
