He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. "True," replied Wild. There was a hint of tears in her voice. He did not spend more time with her. “You’re. You’re a piss-poor liar, John. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages.
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