Well, kill me. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. " "You shall finish the bottle when the job's done," replied Jonathan. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove.
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