We Spurlocks take our medicine, standing. The freezing water lapped around her ankles as she ran along its edge, marveling at the thousands of tiny white spiral shells the tide had brought in. She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. . ” “Oh Jesus.
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