“Another night, another dead body that isn’t Mama. I stop digging and stare at the young woman crumpled in the hole. Small, pale, and fragile-looking, a porcelain doll even in death. She hasn’t been dead long. A few hours perhaps, a day at most. The bullet hole in her forehead still shines with blood, dried crimson against a purple-tinged face.”
Wow now that is an amazing beginning!
— Feb 25, 2024 03:25PM
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