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Summary
Then some days your eyeballs burn inside your skull and your tongue is like a swollen strip of leather claggy against your teeth. You stand perfectly still holding the knife over the chopping board and portion out a phalanx of steak strips and slip them, raw and bloody between your chapped lips.
Those are almost the days you liked best.
Rose is going down fast. Dave's got no idea what he's doing. Together, they might just break the universe.
