The bullet holes in its face filled in like soft clay. all human activity, fromthe lowest to the highest, from the manual to the intellectual, fromthe temporal to the spiritual. She was crying and speaking softly in Spanish as he led her back to the table. I wiped the blood out of my eyes with the back of my hand that held the knife.
I ignored him. Partly it was my mood--confusion always makes me pessimistic--but it was also an innate sense of the coming night. Yep, I said. As he moved close, the eyelids opened and closed.
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