It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. “Don’t think that I have been playing the spy upon you,” he continued. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. ” The stranger came over to them smiling. " "The pianist?" "Yes. uk Cover Art by David Evans Bailey www. They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food. You did not see me, I know.
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