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Breasts Emma Ramey Chicken. I’d say brawk brawk bra wk, but I’d sound like a seizure, not a taunt. And wha t am I ta unting, any way? Discretion. Delica cy. It’s a fine line, they always say. Around a circle, ba ck to start. Into a jail cell. Hands are curious creatures, yours too big a bra in. Always thinking. But why not a ct? Why not grab? Consequences always wa it for later.