“Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. . Of late, however, his plotting had assumed a more dark and dangerous complexion. Habits and tastes are no longer the same. Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. In some instances she tantalizes the victim for years and mocks him in the end. Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. She said as much to him.
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