Her thoughts were busy with the possibilities of this break in her journey. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. "Do you want it back under the pillow?" "Hang it over a chair. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. “And yet you still live, Butterfly.
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