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CHAPTER: 130

THE THREE KINDS OF TEARS

When Clara and Otávio emerged from the trance they had been immersed in during their hour-long dance, their eyes cloudy and hazy, she pulled him by the hand and they sat down for a while.

"Let's rest a bit, shall we?" she said.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"I thought you might be," she replied.

"I don't think I could ever get tired," he said, and his sincerity made her heart race. It wasn't a flirtation, she knew that, not coming from him, as he didn't even know how to flirt. For someone who had never danced, who couldn't stand being touched or close to anyone without recoiling, to have danced for over an hour pressed against someone and say that he could never get tired, well, it was surreal!

"Let's get something to drink," she suggested, and they walked over to the table with refreshments. She grabbed a glass of juice for each of them, never letting go of his hand, and they sat in chairs next to the sound system.

Clara noticed that he still had the drink in hi
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