Really. I'm not! I'm as fuzzy and compliant as a summer peach, as fuzzy and wondering as a newborn babe's not-yet-hardened head, as fuzzy and full of relief as a cease-fire from on high, on the hair-trigger eve of a battle whose armies are comprised all of former schoolmates and lovers, each on opposite sides of the tension-fraught, taut-drawn battle lines, and yet - ***PARADOX ALERT*** - I would not say that I am particularly fuzzy! That word just wormed its way in there as a common denominator. There's no explaining it. Not really.
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