He laughed reassuringly. Cathy reached out and touched Lucy’s chin with her two fingers, gently commanding her attention. The slow stars circled on to the moment of their meeting. She could feel his penis pressing against her, half-erect under the starched black tuxedo pants. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream.
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