“Please my Lord Mayer, Rebeca was tripped by one of the young boys running into her. It wasn’t her fault,” the girl told us.“Are you sure of t...is?” the mayor inquired.“Yes, I was right there,” she said. “Albert didn’t see it. He only saw Rebeca on the ground and the milk spilled.”“So, Albert, what have you to say to that?” asked the mayor.“She spilled the milk. It’s her fault,” he insisted.“Not if someone ran into her,” I stated.“The milk is gone. Who will pay for it? It’s her fault,” Albert. "She opened her eyes. Took tentative steps toward him. Rich admired her lithe runner's legs, toned and slim and defined by the miles she put into the pavement five days a week. As she moved toward him her thoughts raced. Losing control. I'm not the one driving now. He is. And I'm not stopping him. I'm not stopping him because...I want it too.They kissed, and Amanda's hand moved to his face, already rough from the afternoon stubble. The moment started spinning in her head. I can't believe we're. More

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