Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. She was only trying to distract you so that she might escape. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. ‘Imbecile. . “But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. ” “Not for you?” “No. ” Michelle relayed the information as if she had been there, though she had not. But you shall swing, rascal,—you shall swing.
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