It would have saved me much circumlocution, and you some suspense. Imbecile. He was still thickly clad in jeans. “I have noticed,” he said, “that you seem to delight in taking a topsy-turvy view of life. Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance. He looked just as Julian had the night she had first met him outside the Joliet Laundromat. The Night-Cellar XVIII.
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