“& suppose she gifts you with her smile?”  she was teasingly irreverent, but she knew the ways of the hunter, had seen how their tongues dribbled at the terror of the prey.  Yes, but he wouldn’t bite, she was baiting him who never really knew the art.  But suppose she, out of the blue, gifted him with an eyeful of desire, what would he have done then?  He was—though hoping, ha-ha, hoping—stunned.  For he had hardly known the whiteness of white, the greenness of green, the redness of red, also that quicksilver laughter that ripples like waterfall.  The sun is always in sepia, the earth a dark gorge that shakes to the shriek of animals, the sound of drums.  What if indeed she gifted him with a smile?  Surely, as 2+2=4, he would die, not having known how to handle life, happily.

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