Foil and Butter

Book me in for the works, the old man said. The works? the young woman asked. Yeah, the works. And don’t you go saying I’m too old; if you think I’m too old then you…

The voice faded and the receptionist, her feet in a bucket of carp, felt her skin love her over and over and over; perhaps it was the carp; certainly, it was the carp.

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