“I ought to look up Gwen,” she said. She struggled not to be afraid. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. All the same, I don’t admit it. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. I was worried. He taught her about crowds, which men were the evilest, how to locate and dispose society’s garbage.
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