His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. You don’t know about Mary because you live in Kent. We two. ” He smiled, and she felt love for him in that moment as the smile lit up his ebony eyes, eyes whose blackness seemed unfathomable. An audible crack sounded in the kitchen and Mark slumped backwards, unconscious. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to.
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