Cynosure Above the locket, within the V of the chain it is weighting down, where the collarbone crosses the base of her throat— that little hollow, that lovely cynosure, drawing an eye to wait and worship, a finger to trace and dip. Foul Play A fisherman lobs a large inflated blowfish like a lacrosse ball past a squall of gulls into a pelican’s pink racquet.
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