I will make you cry tears of blood. Get ready to be depressed.
Dance in the Full Moon
O, the Frailty of Memory
Friday, January 18, 2013
1.18
Kent landed, hard. She fell on top of him, and slid off gently to rest, pinned, between him and the door jamb. Her father looked down from his kitchen stool and shook the desiccated paper once, twice with a dry rattle. His cough was derisive.
I cannot picture this.
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