" They don’t have what you have, Christine. You know, that thing—and here I grabbed her hand, threaded her slender brown fingers with my own, brushed my fingertips along her red polished nails—where you close your eyes and touch my forehead and make my pain lift from me and you fly it away into the sky? You think when I do that the pain just flies off to the sky? That’s pretty cute, Reg. "
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