He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. “How did you find me?” He asked. Mike was draped over the laminate kitchen counter, on the phone as usual. By the time she was done, the bodies in the bathtub were gathering flies. Gerald’s chest tightened. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Michelle smiled. What you’re after is too risky.
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