The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. ” It was as if she faced a darkness in which was something very beautiful and wonderful as yet unimagined. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised.
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