The entrance of the house 85 was grand, and upon entering she was immediately greeted by John’s mother, a tall, thin woman quite a few years older than Cathy Beck. ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about. Am I so forgettable?” He strode down the hall as she ran to catch up with him past lockers someone had painted an abysmal shade of gray blue. “No, I administered poisons to you according to the ancient tradition. Wood could stand it no longer.
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