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Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. Gerald frowned. She would never return to her father; that resolution was final. He had hired not one but two engineers to record the event, subsidized entirely out of his own meager pocket.
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This video was uploaded to bbdy.space on 01-07-2024 20:21:25
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