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His hands are tough and thick with muscle, his arms rounded with links tanned links skin from driving around in short sleeves. I don't say these things to condemn the man. He isn't ugly. I just wonder if I would see his doughiness as innocence if he wasn't the rapist, his middle-aged bulk as a sign of self-doubt, finding himself in a relationship with my ex-sister-in-law where there was honestly love, but in the middle of families who despised him for simply being there. But he is the rapist. And every thought of him has that taint. The point here is that I did shake hands with the rapist. I have always thought of myself as someone who is above the fray, able to see clearly in any situation. Even though my brother's wife left him and started dating the rapist almost immediately, I have always thought that it was for the best, that sometimes marriages don't work out, that if my ex-sister-in-law really went through that tidal shift in her life perspective, then fine, good sailing, go on your way.
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