Maggot. He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. “You will go and see her,” he begged. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday.
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