” That phrase about dragging the truth through swamps of nonsense she remembered from Capes. She withdrew her mouth and patted his penis dry with the bottom of his shirttails. Rhea writhed and scuttled about like a crab. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. She's fine. .
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