She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. Speak lower. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. “Yeah. Michelle was laid onto the back seat, her head cradled in Lucy’s lap. ’ She shrugged. I am bothered.
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