She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Blueskin placed the knife between his teeth, and endeavoured to seize the poor woman by the throat. “Oh my God! You sounded like my Grandma just now! How did you do that?” He asked, shocked. By the time I had recovered myself she had gone.
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