Hill sat up on the pavement and mopped the blood from his cheek. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. ” Lucy commented as the mud was smoothed around the grave site. ” “I can’t go back to the Beck’s ever again. “You have them both,” Anna answered. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft.
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