‘But I don’t trust you an inch. I miss her a lot. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. Michelle's home was one of the smaller palaces, made solidly of red brick with charming black shutters and window boxes full of drooping violets. “Where have you been, young lady? I know your kind, I know you sneak out every night! How long do you think it could go on? You little murdering slut! Whore! I found you out, found your blouse! Evidence! How many of your johns have you killed why you have lived at my house? Huh? They’re going to put you away for a long time, honey. It isn’t the same thing. Ed.
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