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“What are you doing here?” I asked. I was breathless, not certain any longer if it was my nearly plummeting to my death or his nearness that was making it so hard to draw in air. “Protecting you. What does it look like I’m doing?” — Jocelyn Davies
What are you doing here?” I asked. I was breathless, not certain any longer if it was my nearly plummeting to my death or his nearness that was making it so hard to draw in air.
“Protecting you. What does it look like I’m doing?