E. Michelle’s eyes widened. It has been proved. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. You see to what it has brought you. She had killed the McCloskeys after they had witnessed her making a kill. He seemed to be about to move toward her. He had looked at it before without comprehension. He was so depressed and disheartened that he did not then believe he would ever write again. Not one of them but bore the marks of having been engaged in a recent and severe conflict.
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