ELIXIR

 


She didn’t drink, as a general rule, perhaps a glass of wine at social occasions but when the opportunity arose and she had her catch trussed up on a hook, a vein slit enough for a consistent drip, she loved a warm cup, the elixir of death, she called it.


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Published on March 28, 2017 17:56
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Postcard from a Pigeon

Dermott Hayes
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