‘I should never have told you. He sent me home. They were sharp and dripping with black blood. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. ” It was a tiny little room, daintily furnished, individual in its quaint colouring, and the masses of perfumed flowers set in strange and unexpected places. He greeted the corpulent boy at the register, whose tag read, \"MY NAME IS Jason\" with familiarity.
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