She had worn a long skirt that morning, and a
roomier sweater that was slightly easier to handle than
Shari’s low cut numbers. They
were loath to admit to the public that the case would be
closed in a few years for sheer lack of forensic evidence. ‘Beg pardon, sir?’ asked the sergeant, evidently mystified. He bowed over her hand,
venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. She was fine and tender. His letter of credit; probably that was it;
and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on
returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. . “Sheila and Mark McCloskey?” Michelle asked. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and
shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow,
and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 10-07-2024 10:45:02