Page 105 of The Troll's Tiny Bride

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Nights are when River curls beside me, hair in my mouth, elbows sharp, breath soft on my throat.

Nights are when I look at the house we built stone by stone, kiss by kiss, scream by scream.

And I think?—

Maybe trolls were never meant to be alone.

Maybe bridges aren’t for tolls.

Maybe they’re forcrossing.

Forconnection.

And beneath that bridge, between those thighs, I didn’t just find love.

I found a reason to keep living.

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