It now appears to have progressed to that time of the night (well, morning). Partially caused by the shitiness of Jack Rose being dead, and having spent the last 2 hours listening to bootlegs of his...
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The toothaches got worse, she dreamed of disembodied voices from whose malignance there was no appeal, the soft dusk of mirrors out of which something was about to walk, and empty rooms that waited for her. Your gynaecologist has no test for what she was pregnant with.
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