A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. “No. \" Shari drawled as she looked up from her dissected sausage. Gerald sighed. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. ’ ‘Eh?’ Gerald grinned at Hilary’s blank expression, and was gratified when the girl turned a brilliant smile upon himself.
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