“He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. “You see you do not know how much of truth there is in his story. Annabel Pellissier was not like the others, he said. He grew even harder. Lost from all protection, all her family dead—as are mine.
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