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... her down with each stroke, her breasts compressed against the stone, milk squeezing out and pooling beneath her in thin white spreading warmth — her chest in the puddle of it, her stomach in it, her body leaking from multiple locations simultaneously.
The daughter could feel the milk.
Warm against her arm, against her ribs where she was pressed close to her mother — and again the specific knowledge, the specific intimacy of what her body was lying in, and again the specific bewil ...
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