She had to exert tremendous energy not to sniff the air for his blood. “Who took care of you after she died?” “My father. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. He had reacted by pushing her away, disgust and frustration on his face. ’ Too late he saw his error. I suspect he has a bit of vanity. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. You won't have him long.
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