The train came pounding down the track, gusting wind and sending my hair askew all over and I turned away from it and he turned into it, into me, leaning into me like he leaned on my vowels and grazing my lips with his, just barely, just lightly touching his into my bottom lip, a fine row of teeth just maybe smoothing against my soft lip, and his hands dug into my wild hair as the wind and his will pushed us together into a violent, hurricane of a near-kiss, all breath, all low pressure system, vortex, train.

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