Torn, Hard Lens, Page 130.
Nothing is ever simple. Or free, or honest, or genuinely given.
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Nothing is ever simple. Or free, or honest, or genuinely given.
Half a mile away, a wife thought it was the smell of her guilt and confessed to her affairs.
When her husband didn't react, she confessed to affairs she'd never had.
She kept confessing until she felt his warm fingers around her throat.
To ensure his place in heaven, Desjeunes of Plainfaing, Vosges, had covered with holy pictures the bed where he killed himself with rum.