|photo courtesy of tess kincaid|
She was starving. It had taken more time than she thought. And more energy. She looked down at her hands, still covered in crimson, but there was no remorse. Only that relentless hunger. She’d kill for a bloody steak slathered in onions right about now. And there was absolutely nothing in the apartment except a shriveled lemon and a moldy chunk of cheddar. She guessed she’d have to clean up the mess and go out. Wouldn’t want anyone to find things this way. Fingerpainting was a messy business.
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