He claws at the door, fingers fumbling, finding it locked. He's sweating and his slippery hands glide off the knob. "What's the matter, dear?" she asks, her voice distorted, as if coming through a speaker in another room. He doesn't turn around to look at her. He's seen enough.
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They were consenting adults, so it's not for me to say. :)
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>great old ones >adults I guess there is such a thing as mega adulthood.
End of conversation
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