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It’s the way she sits there in the window, examining the bruises. Her legs are bare. Morning glimmers in over the purple starbursts that my boots have left on her shinbones. There, on the ledge, she is almost arachnid now, perched on long, folded limbs, head tipped to one side, staring out into the street […]http://sliderulesyou.com/wp/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/web.jpg