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But there was still something about him. When he turned his long face a certain way, she saw pewter, as if it glinted off him. Sometimes, on the phone, she felt that she heard the flash of silver in his voice, as well.
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Mabel constructed the quintessential boundary. She carefully boiled down her pots and pans, her jewelry, her copper kettle, and the foils from forty six bottles of white pear cider into a silky metallic stew. Mable smeared the mixture onto a burlap…
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Cheater was a Goblin. He carried a long knife, not quite a sword, but more than your average pocket blade.
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my crotch-heavy press of 'Yes.'
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