” He said. Frequently he would take up a box of talc and send a shower down his back, or fill his palms with the powder and rub his face and arms and hands. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A. The baby boy was delivered in a sea of black blood, born dead and blue, and strangled by plague. It was her foster brother Mike, on his way to the bathroom.
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