She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. It felt wonderful and golden to bask in the sunlight of their approval, even if their approval was fickle and dangerous. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. If I am to die in the attempt, then so be it.
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