The girl stood before him, the length of her moss green overcoat swaying gently in the wind. It was a beautiful coat, one that held her waist with a large satin sash and gracefully skimmed past her knees. The coat was so large that it hid whatever she was wearing beneath it, but it was so lovely that it didn't matter what she was wearing beneath it. Coats are lovely that way, he thought.
The wind rushed into her face and she squeezed her eyes shut to avoid the dust trail. He just lay there, holding her gaze the way a hunter stares down a gazelle before the kill.
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