’ His features relaxed again and he grinned. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. Most of the tables were for those who smoked only and drank wine, but there were a few spread with tablecloths and laid for dinner. Sometimes I take innocent lives. There's the paragraph. But really it is much more than that.
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