I don’t believe in the faults. The picture of her flashed across the doctor's vision magically. The car ride to the new movie theater, a multiplex, was brief and harrowing. We may be stopped. Meantime, as the doctor was splitting his breakfast orange, he heard a commotion in his office, two rooms removed: volleys of pidgin English, one voice in protest, the other dominant. “I murdered them, John.
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