Annabel entered. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. “Are you A, B, C, or D?” he asked. Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. It cuts. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire.
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