C21

“Gabriel?” I call out to him, before long revisits of me. I despise when my hypotheses are correct, I comment, showing him what I stepped on. A shiny rectangular insert with the name Augustus engraved on it, dirty with charcoal-shaded stains and a solid smell of debris.

“Crib,” he spits out and my inner meeting emulates him.

Linda will generally not care about this news, even though she denied it a thousand and several times, she really preferred the juvenile official.

Fourteen days have passed. The mother was released and cleared of any charges on the same day that the fabrication body she found in our kitchen disappeared from the morgue, on the grounds that without a body there was no case to settle. From that moment on we have not seen any products and neither have the specialists in fear. As a whole we go to class, imagining that nothing has happened. Be that as it may, the other individuals around us seem to know it. You walk down the hall and no one smiles, no one laughs. It giv