Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. He strangled the infant, which slipped out of his hands and screamed. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. Only I’m so incensed with that crazy fool Gerald that—oh, well, never mind. Maybe later.
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