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She wished she hadn’t succumbed to irritation. Because she wanted to know about his inner feelings. She always thought people were like pieces of art glass– strong enough to handle and use, delicate enough to shatter under a strong blow, and filled with swirls of color that fascinated the eye. But while most people–and most glass–allowed light through, she could discern nothing of Devlin’s heart and soul through the smoke and mirrors he held before him.
