#308280 - Ida stands rigid in the middle of the room; hands clasping a frosted glass box and head bowed in submission, still wearing the green dress I gave her. My love; you are woman whom I have chosen and who has chosen me. I had wanted to add more to it first but - having thought about just how large this extra text would be (and subsequently how long it would take me to write it) - I think it best to publish this first.
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