But I am sick of tearing up letters and hopeless of getting what I have to say better said. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. "Let me look at the paper. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. For a time it really seemed all-sufficient to her that she should love. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud.
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