”he sliced her fingers as he would slice his avocado at a sunday afternoon, right after tea time though just before dinner, gently, but with a determined cut. slowly, her soft skin revealed the delicate nature of her unwounded flesh underneath a stream of pulsating red blood. ”that tickles”, she said, while observing and recording the movement of his immaculate eyebrows. more than ever did she loathe him now, though never without an intense feeling of guilt.” CD
