How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line. Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V. But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover. —The general who gives an order for wholesale carnage never sleeps a wink the less soundly for the midnight groans of his victims, and we should deride him as a coward if he did.
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