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“You missed the sooty albatross, Bill. Gallant fellow. It was a shame to hold him under ether.”
“At least it did not suffer.” Wilson feels the sternum of the bird, the soft featherless spot where the breast is exposed.
Cherry blinks, as if his meaning was misconstrued entirely. “I suppose.”
Wilson slices decisively–the one incision you get, with an animal this small– from top to bottom. One must be purposeful.