The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. The solos were revealing, sensual and moody. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day.
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