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One month. Thirty days. I could bury myself in my art and forget the feel of his lips sliding across mine. I could forget the scent of his cologne, the way my body reacted when he touched me. I sighed. Thirty days suddenly seemed like an eternity.
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One month. Thirty days. I could bury myself in my art and forget the feel of his lips sliding across mine. I could forget the scent of his cologne, the way my body reacted when he touched me. I sighed. Thirty days suddenly seemed like an eternity.

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