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The Memory
by shipperchick


His first thought was that they couldn’t be hers. Her gaze wasn’t one that shined or shimmered with joy, but Parker’s eyes always had a silent heat to them; a molten glow of rage or passion akin to the hypnotic blue of a butane torch - hot enough to scald from a distance. But the truth was in the chill, porcelain features framing those eyes, and it broke him.

His fingers sweeping past her final tears and brushing closed paper-thin lids; Jarod turned away. The memory of Miss Parker’s blank, staring eyes would haunt him for the rest of his days.


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