Poetry

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"Madeleine" by faerierainbow3
She ordered two strawberry sponges, the sort you sold off as shortcake (it was a common baker's common lie, to the population), and her voice – it was homemade whipped cream, dollops of it, soft and fluffy and sweet. Her laugh was the sound a spoon makes when one taps the burnt sugar glaze on crème brulée: melodious, bright, clear...

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