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Eighty-three

“What do you think you’re doing?” Anelia shouted and tried to pull her hands out of his grasp, to no avail. She stopped struggling and glared at him. “Let go of me!” She seethed.

Dexter tilted his head to the side. “How am to know you won’t try to hit me again?” He questioned, looking at her with a knowing look. “Why do you easily resort to violence? You ought to know that that doesn’t solve anything. Besides, what can these small hands do to me?”

He eyed her hands that were balled into fists and surprised her when he enclosed her hands with his. “See, mine are just way to big. What can you think to do with such small hands?” He raised their hands for her to see.

 

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