She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. ’ ‘Who, Joan, who? Of whom do you speak?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. The smell of laundry detergent was noticeable, the bed sheets very tightly stretched across the bed, tucked in on three sides.
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