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She stared up at me. Her eyes full of wonder, horror, terror, relief.

Cupping her cheek in my hand, I feel the coolness of her skin beneath the sticky-slick red that is still gushing from her open chest. Her heart hasn’t yet figured out that it is time to stop; and so it keeps pumping.

I pull my hand away. Feeling the tackiness trying to keep it there, as if she’s asking me not to go; not to leave her there, alone and cold. Not that she had been warm for such a long time. Such a long time…

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