“Bad hemorrhage,” he said. I know South America and Canada like the lines in my hand. The Bitchster strikes again. ‘Shall we abandon the guard, then, sir?’ ‘Certainly not. Not to go to her is wickeder than if I had run away with my friend's wife. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips. “Please play something for us,” Carol asked, her eyes aglow. She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. “Will you come round to the hospital?” he asked.
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