”“Ghost guns?”“Yeah. In this case three AR-15 rifles. You probably know that the serial number is applied to the lower receiver, the regulated...part.”“Yeah.” Now I knew.Matt glanced at me, but let my fib pass. “Ghost guns are sold without serial numbers. They’re usually shipped in kit form — only partially assembled — so they’re legal. A technicality, a loophole, but there you go.”I sat here, in Matt’s bed, gently stroking his back, thinking now about ... eccentric stuff. Ash Collins once told. I knew quite a bit about clothes. Vanessa even more. But Sabbath was the pro. We spent hours online replenishing her entire wardrobe. I had expected more enthusiasm, but she acted as if it were just a necessary chore. The orders were in my name, on my debit card. No digital mention of Sabbath Armstrong. Nor of her HAVEN name — Helen Corrigan.That was the easy part of her path toward recovery. Her rehabilitation would probably be more mental than physical. The psychological scars were, I. Oceans, mountains, generations of raw and unfettered feelings.Back and forth they came and went, traversing the bridge we'd built between us with wild abandon, exalting in the opportunity to live again; to pass on to someone, to anyone, the fact of their existence. To not be forgotten.Tears flowed from my eyes, turning to hissing steam as they exited the flaming eye, to droplets of ice as they fell from the other. A single tear for dozens of lives relived and remembered.My body shuddered as the. Just then, the lift door opened. I was shocked. I was standing there for someone to view topless. I tried to run inside, but Daniel grabbed my hand and hugged me tight, covering me up.He pinned me to the door and kissed me hard. It was our security guard Shakti. He had come to deliver some items to the neighbors’ flat. The guard didn’t see us and went to the next flat and rang their bell. A guy opened the door and was shocked to see us.2 bachelors were staying in the opposite flat to us. They.
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