Even from a distance, with my poor eyesight, I could tell she was delicate in every way. Carefully perched on the handlebars of an older bike while the boy coerced a wobbling, confident progress though turning gears. Her arms strained, then relaxed, as they passed over the railroad tracks. Gracefully she leaned back until her head was resting in the nook between his shoulder and neck. They receded to scenery in this manner, leaving a feeling softer.

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