. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. He took some Oreos from the bottomless supply that stocked the cookie jar.
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