That he now had bookshelves and a chair that sat next to a fireplace in which to read was a marvel. At first, the creature had crouched in his room long after the workmen had left, not daring to touch. It was only late that night when he'd lit the fire, sat in the chair, moving it to place it just right. He hadn't slept; it felt too decadent, too
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"I w-would l-like to pl-play the mu-music you play-yed for me," he said, fingers twitching at his sides as he remembered, feeling so bare, so raw with her.
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He swallowed hard, blurting out, "I could sh-show you." Perhaps that room would feel more real were Catherine in it.
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It almost seemed as if his heart was beating too hard, rattling in his chest.
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"Sometimes I like to jog, or work out to this kind of music."
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"Here try these." She popped in an instrumental jazz CD.
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This seemed better. It was nice. It allowed him to catch his breath. "Th-that is fine."
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