“Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. “You, anyhow, don’t deserve it,” he said. ” He took a seat by her side. He might miss at this distance. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.
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