D kitchen. “And she moved; not realizing what she was doing, she took my right hand… not understanding why she had done it, she leaned down and kissed it. Then she stood utterly still, still crouching, in that attitude of furiously jubilant humility, her lips burning and her warm hands still brushing my skin, lightly like dead leaves, but transmitting that dark, passionate battery charge, which forever doomed all peace.” (William Faulkner, 1938)
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