Arielle was a real tiger, a one of a kind
springjack puppet bursting out from
that mechanical box after you had
wound it. One hell of a girl.
She was like those wild
boars on the discovery network, at
four am, I'd watch her hunt vivaciously
with her pressured round stomach.
Arielle always believed what I told her.
It was why our relationship could have
survived as long as it did, though I can't
say offhand that I ever lied; I wanted to.
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