But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. “What the hell. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. I’m okay. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. “I think,” she said, “that I rather like what you have said. Others are smart but fall prey to emotional damage, the female lunar instinct of cunning that goes awry.
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