For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative
Bloody Love Within the Burning Stormclouds
Waiting alone in the Red Chamber, remembering its bloody history, with the godless sprightly piping of the Vicars flageolet wafting in from outside, the twice-jilted Judy thought once more of Senator Bobby, the man who had taught her how to feel. He was now, according to Brother Forsythe, dancing away the hot Rio nights with the sultry Gerry.
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