“You’re. ” Michelle replied, still haunted by the image of her friend brutally amputating a man’s finger. A little table covered with a damask cloth was dragged out. I’m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all. . They sat down at the dining room table which seemed empty and 259 huge in the stark, white-walled room. He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table. His age was not far from fifty. ” “I had to,” she repeated.
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