Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. ‘My name’s NOT More, Mr. ’ Fresh suspicion kindled in his breast. " "You are from America?" "Yes. “I want to know who you are. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. ” She was cowed by the three dead faces that seemed to scream at her to restore order by any means possible, even if it meant forgetting the children of the whore and all the events that had led to her unfortunate situation.
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