December 20, 2008

On that cold winter’s night, she surprised herself by craving a hard-boiled egg. Right from the water, it scalded her palm, but she cradled it in the sleeve of her sweatshirt and peeled it anyway, stopping to blow on her fingertips as she went along. It was egg-perfection, the yolk creamy and not too dry, the flavor sparkling with flecks of sea salt. Even long after she had consumed it, its warmth spread from her belly and tingled the ends of her fingers.

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