Ma, aged a year shy of fifty, whirls up and cries to Gramma, "Oh, Sara, I think I'm in love!"
Gramma, aged three years shy of one hundred, replies, "Oh no, well, you'd better think!"
All sanity depends on this: that it should be a delight to feel heat strike the skin, a delight to stand upright, knowing the bones are moving easily under the flesh.
Your grandma is so beautiful! I want to meet her..
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