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. It began as a joke. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. I don't think. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. “This,” he said, and then: “No! Is this sweeter? Very well. . After all, she only LOOKED a woman. "Your gratitude will vanish with your danger.
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