PREVIEW
... the hospital room.
When Sylvan Cheney returned after having smoked a few cigarettes, Jasmine Yale was still in a deep sleep.
His warm hand touched her forehead, the high fever had subsided.
However, Jasmine Yale’s hands and feet were ice-cold, her lips pale.
Her face was thin, worn out from exhaustion and fatigue.
Sylvan Cheney bent down and kissed her lips, cradling her face somewhat uncontrollably, his own lips carrying a faint taste of tobacco.
...
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