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... w, pressed against Kate’s soft curves as we ride an elevator to the clouds. The glass capsule shoots upward at dizzying speed, New Boston sprawling beneath us like a circuit board designed by gods. My stomach lurches with each floor we pass, though whether from the altitude or Kate’s proximity is anyone’s guess.
"Seventy-three... seventy-four..." Kate murmurs, counting floors as we ascend. Her arm is wrapped firmly around my waist, her hip flush against mine. "Seventy-five."
The ...
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