This is love in the social media age. Candlelight dinner, fine wine, degustation, a lover's face scrunched over a phone screen live-tweeting brainfarts about the relationship to largely uninterested skim-readers.
Grandmummy told me about her life.
[I]f we're being honest, Markov was no screaming hell in his first four or five games back.
From the highest spire of contentment / my fortune is thrown; / and fear and grief and pain for my deserts / are my hopes, since hope is gone.
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