The bridge was open. . She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. “I will make of the days and weeks one long morning, but remember the afternoon must come. “Absolutely platonically,” she said. “When are you going away?” He asked. . She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks.
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