Spurlock. It was a work of no slight danger, for every instant a wall, or fragment of a building, came crashing to the ground. I don’t know. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. But she could not live in constant association with him without having these gaps filled. Girls erupted in waves of whispering as soon as she passed them by.
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