A Death March to Fulfillment

Their comfortable, dispassionate partnership soothed their aching feet and cushioned their joints, ailments that had become emotional side effects of success and that death march to fulfillment.

She married the man she hated most. Their fascination with one another reached its peak within the first twenty-five hours of their meeting amid the dwindling crowd at that nightclub, and after that began its gradual descent into disinterested familiarity. She remembered that she had insisted on staying until close that night, and her friends, too tired and frankly, too wrapped up in themselves to care, had all left around one o’clock in the morning. It was the first time she had been out in months and they’d had to drag her out in the first place, but now that she had let her hair down she wanted to keep it that way, at least until the end of the night.

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