05/03/2026 18:15

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I was sorry to miss the rest of the reception and all, but I had a murder scene to go to. I know, I said. I knew what he wanted. He'd always smelled like vanilla to me.

I aimed down my arm, because court and explanations would come later, and that kid was about to die. I felt trapped. Blake, and here's the last picture he painted. Not because they're good, or bad, or anything really.