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He opened the patio door. The smell of the early summer arrived with the heat of the afternoon. A wind stirred along the tree line bending the golden grass in the adjacent field, a hot wind, dryer than the day before. He had little clothing on. He lingered in the open doorway letting the air wash the moisture from his body, remembering, a year ago, when they spent the summer together.

The same hot, dry air rode into the room and washed over her body as she lay naked on his bed. He could see the soft curls of her hair move with the breeze, she stirred gently, he stared at her intently, trying to absorb the completeness that was her body. He was so much in love with her. She had been crying; the stain of her tears still on her cheeks; the wetness of their love on her thighs.

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