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But silence was complicity, and you were only as sick as your secrets.
He knew what he was. Tainted, a creature of habits, of types.
The sound of the water was a reminder that rivers never stopped, wind never ceased, and despite this horror or the next, no matter who died or when, the sun would always rise and set.
She’d heard so many outright lies and shaded half-truths in her career. Everybody lied about something, even to themselves.
