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... The birdsong was delicate, not shrill. The breeze moved through the trees like a whisper instead of a warning. The sun filtered down in golden shafts that warmed their skin but didn’t scorch, as if the island itself had exhaled. Jude stood at the edge of the river where the current met a series of smooth stones, watching the water swirl lazily around his ankles. His shirt clung to his chest from the early dip he took, but he hadn’t wanted to dry off yet. He liked the way the cold clung to him, ...
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