For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. "Took a great fancy to you. She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. . She gasped with pain, but she did not release her grip.
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