She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. He had meant to come at his business in a roundabout way, but for that little slip. A diversion was created by the violent struggles of the little old lady. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living. “You’re exactly as I remember you!” “Forever fifteen, remember?” She stepped closer to him into the light of the television screen.
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