She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. I'd go for it. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. "I've set a trap for him. One day she awoke and he was cavorting about underneath the covers.
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