aPriL does feral sometimes

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He let go of me and thrust his gun up into its holster. He smelled of cordite and sweat. It was delicious.
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Mark
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Mark
This is almost the noir writing one expects from a Philip Marlowe novel
aPriL does feral sometimes
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aPriL does feral sometimes
I know, right? These sentences are wonderful.
The Spy Who Loved Me (James Bond, #10)
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