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Summary
Margaretha recognizes his hesitation. “Joker-”
Joker squeezes her throat so hard that she sees spots. “No.”
“Joker, please-”
“Shut up.”
“Let me go-”
“Can’t you ever shut your hole,” Joker hisses, leering down at her.
~~~
Bitterness is to Joker as dead flesh is to a fly, disgusting revelry. Solace is to Margaretha as the peach was to Tantalus, ever-grasping and always-receding.
