Folks don’t like ’em. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. His face clouded with anger. She met him by the dugout after the game. She had imagined she had drowned them altogether. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John.
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