‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. “It rained the whole of the time, but we saw all the sights, and the place never seemed dull. Beyond that everything was nebulous. Cut to pieces —slashed—bloodied. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks. Only three days.
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