“A short life.” She runs age-tremulous fingers over the line crossing his palm. It’s from a knifeblade, but he nods, figuring she’s right.
R. Gatwood is concise.
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by R. Gatwood
by R. Gatwood
“A short life.” She runs age-tremulous fingers over the line crossing his palm. It’s from a knifeblade, but he nods, figuring she’s right.
R. Gatwood is concise.