Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. The man could put a bullet through her before she could hope to reach any one of them. The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river.
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