She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. “Maybe someday I can look them up again, just to see how they are doing. I could not dream of loving you. ” “I don’t think it makes a rap of difference, except for one thing. I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions.
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