“John?” He turned around in the recliner. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. Running his hand hastily over it, he was startled to find it one complicated mass of bolts and bars. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull.
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