Finished Folds (601—620)
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5She was his first human hunt and he'd paid heavily for it. They'd met in a club two nights before and she'd fobbed him off on her disinterested, hatchet-faced wingman. Now she was
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4through the phone and all over her face. I could see her change through the window across the street. She was struggling to maintain her adventurer's spirit. "That's not the kind
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3or so five minutes ago. Fashion was cyclical, but maybe cycling back to last year's fashion was too quick, so I went to the signing and grabbed Michael Kors by his shaggy blond
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1the gnawing. The constant gnawing at the door whittled away my sanity with each jagged edge he created with those tiny, relentless teeth. Forty seven bullets later, his owner died
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2for their crimes. She stood among them, smug that this man of honor would turn them over to a judge she had owned since the early days. He returned after a moment with gas cans.
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0the acidic ash that had billowed from the pool. Something in it smelled like Devin, but the taste in her mouth was a nuclear shadow of her husband; black and tragic and gone.
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3Peter winced. Sarah was a biblical name and not the kind of word that a demon could swallow, even if it was his master's. He choked my name out like flaming vomit. The heat burned
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3The first layer of silver had been ground away before he realized the spoon would be insufficient. He had three days, a spoon, a toilet & some salt. By the fourth bite, the nausea
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1The knife felt so light in her hands and non-existent in her purse. The metal detectors didn't register it because it was ceramic, so she was able to enter her tormentor's meeting
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1vanilla frozen yogurt shat out by the behemoth pink berry rental machine. His years of architecture and drafting prepared him for everything but complimenting his date's pie. Eat
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0cracking the code of fashion legend. Sylvia was jamming Project Runway against Kathy Lee's fall collection for the sub $20 pant suit set. Taking it up a notch, she throat-kicked Sh
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1One day you're a nudist trying hard to look everyone in the eye, the next you've won the lottery and can afford real nude beaches and that special part of the red light district
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2and began to blubber incessantly as the NBC special report camera crew surrounded him. "Do you know who I am?" asked the reporter. He looked at the girl again, trying to recall
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3He briefly wondered about his initials. S. I. Am. A quick check in the store window confirmed it. He was indeed from Thailand.Yet how many Sams from Thailand dealt ham, or eggs?
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4practiced to the point of natural familiarity. My teacher had taught me to practice until I had it down, then forget it. It worked well while until the right cross and left hook
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0which was ironic since she had as much experience as the Pope at a brothel. Nevertheless, a bedroom nickname was enough to make his friends envious, at least until they saw first
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1into the detector which set off a chain reaction with the fire extinguishers, the PA system, someone's iPod and a nurse who'd forgotten her bra that resulted in an impromptu wet
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16stood there for a moment before Sarah Jane threw cold water on it, melting it back into the hole from whence it came. He blushed, complained that it was cold and the covered the
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6nothing he's ever said has amounted to anything but failure and endless apologies from me and everyone else he calls friends. We stopped that a long time ago, but he doesn't let go
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1Bluefield, named ironically for its placement on a giant dirty stone mountain. We'd met once when we were three and we were twins, but I went with Dad and she with mother-in-law.