The lad hesitated. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. He greeted the corpulent boy at the register, whose tag read, \"MY NAME IS Jason\" with familiarity. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. “And then they are swollen up and inflamed and drunken with matter. He’ll appoint a meeting place with you and be ready at any time to bring a message to me.
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