Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. "Before to- morrow night that boy shall join his father. But I never betray an old customer. She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather. Kneebone. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood.
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