This year—I’ve got it badly. She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. "Here I am, Captain," cried a voice from without. "Release your prisoner," continued Wood, "or the window is opened.
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