Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone. The address was of course her destination, thousands of miles away, an infinitesimal spot in a terrifying space. \"What did you think of Poltergeist, John?\" She tried to engage him in conversation as Mark's music blared from the van's stereo system. "Where?" she cried. Loved his memory still, for all he knew.
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