She glanced at him. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. An iron fillet secured the socket of the bolt and the box of the lock to the main post of the doorway. Man's fate is in his own hands. Remember that. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall.
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