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The Title is Yours
Jordan
Shadows slipping and sliding like satin sheets into the night air across our bare skin. Our watches stop ticking and our cell phones power down as time seeps out the frosted window. Our bodies are tangled in this mess of a truck but the heat of your hand on my thigh blurs the surroundings, and I lay back into your arms. My eyes drift closed as you kiss my forehead and the world fades away while I merge into the darkness . . .

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