’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. The man’s passion became almost unbearable at the thought of losing her.
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