Is there a more essential me, more essential you, him, her? Someonedeeper than our name suggests, someone who is there despite the way welook. Sundays... now, Grey like the fog, before the round of days uncoil again,before I take my tiny steps into that new web of chat and glancesexchanged that increasingly connects me -- seems to connect me -- in adifferent way to a different world. Tiny steps, like a minuet, a gavotte.Violins flicking precise crystalline notes, to match the precise turnsand. ? But he was too late she was gone. He wasn?tpaying attention because he was thinking about the box of Carrie?sclothes. When he realized what she had said, it was too late to try andget out of it. Now, what was he going to do? He knew Matt was excitedtoo and he didn?t want to disappoint him. Little sisters, they mess upeverything.***Carrie was putting two and two together. She knew her clothes wouldn?tfit Matt and she would have noticed if he was going through her stuffbefore. He did say that. More

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