The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. ‘Prudence? This name I have heard it spoken. ” Like most men who lie but seldom, he lied well. She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. You got my note?” “I certainly received a note,” Anna admitted.
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