He began to abuse it.
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Lena wasn't a high-definition image. She was a presence . He could feel the warmth radiating from her forearm. He could smell the specific fermentation of the brine mixed with her chamomile hand cream. When she finally twisted the lid off with a triumphant grunt, the sound didn't just enter his ears; it entered his bones. The crack of the seal was a physical event. He began to abuse it
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It was making his past better than it had ever been. More beautiful. More coherent.