Contractions
Article by Lindsey, West Yorkshire, January 03, 2013
An observer - a fly on the wall, a bedbug, a balled cat with its engine purring - could have been forgiven for believing I'd taken up with some odd cult and was partaking in a nocturnal ritual as every twenty minutes I leapt out from under the covers and knelt on the floor, leaning on the edge of a bed scattered with crumbled bits of fresh lavender.
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