It appeared he had already ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate with the soup forthwith. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. This is the first act.
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