Monday, January 23, 2012
Thousand: Six Hundred Thirty-Five
bites her lip. Right. The hair that’s in the jacket. That single suspicious black hair stiff as a bristle that the girl retrieved from the top of the cabinet in a pristine white room. She was trained to watch for stuff like that. Something that’s not supposed to be there. She is to bring it to the attention of the overseer. Didn’t the overseer see her when she came into the room? The girl was standing on a stool, not the sort of thing you’ll see in one of these rooms, a girl in a keykeeper uniform standing on a
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