The Old Mint III. "So endeth the first lesson," he said. " "Come, come, Captain," remonstrated Blueskin. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air.
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