You are not my husband. " CHAPTER V. “Please stop fighting me. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. He turned. He realized that he was committed to the path across the fields, an uninteresting walk at the best of times. He went in there, and he was in there for a good half hour.
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