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“Punctual. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. “I expected you this morning,” he said. The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. “Sold again,” she remarked. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. ’ ‘And you will not,’ came triumphantly from the cherry lips. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. “Of course we go to school. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. He was profoundly stirred. . ” She lied. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't.

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