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. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. He was a shy boy outwardly but she knew him better in his thoughts, in which perhaps she had already taken upon the role of lover. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. Her mind jumped with questions as fear raced through her and hardened into a bid for retaliation. Buck up. She wanted him so badly it hurt. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. Hollo rumbled in his throat.
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This video was uploaded to siguava.com on 31-05-2024 15:10:12
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