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The Elephants
My hands ran along the coarse, gray skin of the gentle beast in front of me. The elephant’s enormity seemed to have no effect on its easy temperament, a trait I envied. I could feel all the rough patches and the almost unperceivable hair. Its wrinkles welted beneath my hands, bouncing around my own palm lines. My scars crossed his scars at odd angles as they drifted from parallel to perpendicular and away again. I could feel everything in the matter of a second. Then, quicker than seemed absolutely necessary, I was being pulled away, dragged off to God knows where.
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