Don’t say anything, she thought to herself, say nothing more, Martin. The bridge was open. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. He had kissed his wife on the mouth … and had been horrified! There was real madness somewhere along this road. "Thanks. “Do all foster kids have the instinct?” Michelle asked naively.
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