He’ll survive. Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V. “You see,” she said, very gently, “I AM going. God help me. Meat pies with sweet crust were stuffed with macaroni, steaks of pork and beef were pounded thin and grilled rare, capons had been marinated in plum wine and cinnamon, and veal sausages stewed in cream were served over fine noodles: all the dishes that he loved were present.
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