He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. "Hear me out," said Jonathan. She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town.
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