#456 met #338 in the gallery with the Impressionist paintings.  #456 said something both scholarly and witty, and #338 laughed and strolled through the other galleries with him.  They fell in love with the Rembrandts (but not the Pollocks), and then eventually they fell in love with each other.  It happened on a bluff above the Pacific Ocean, probably at sunset or close to it, when #456 looked into #338′s eyes and said something both cheesy and heartfelt.  #456 and #338 married each other on the beach below that bluff a couple years later.  A seagull called out just as #338 slipped the ring onto #456′s finger, and they both took it as a sign of good luck.  A couple years after that, #338 gave birth to #794, who’d been conceived on a freezing February night beneath many blankets in a rented room at a ski resort, because you’ve got to keep warm somehow.  A seagull called out just as #794 emerged into the world, and both #338 and #456 took it as a sign of good luck.  A nurse came by and told them what number their child had been assigned.  “794.”

#338 almost nodded, but then a strange smile possessed her lips.  She looked at #456 and said, “No.  We’re going to call her Grace.”

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