Then the dagger’s point came in a whirling arc towards his face. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. . Why are you so anxious?" "Oh, if you can't see your way…. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. “I ought to have done anything! “What’s a man for? “Friendship!” He doubled up his fist, and seemed to contemplate thrusting it through the window. \"483-4492. ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’ ‘Yes, yes. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked.
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