we are industrious killers, if we are nothing else she said. she was on the bed, framed by the big window, her skin seemed electric in contrast to the grey sky behind her. what? i asked her. she waved her hand across the city outside the window. grey sky dissapearing into grey skyscrapers. smokestacks a block away pumping grey smoke, leeching color away with coloums of smoke. just look at it. you heard me.Birth sign: Taurus
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