Mother and Son. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. “Lucy? Ms. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. Did he like freaks? She opened her black umbrella, her giant sun deflector. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. Wood, softening her asperity.
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