She planned it before he died, so at the right moment they took his body away. The drop of blood they returned was bigger than she expected, but she hung it up in the sitting room, and turned to the fashion channels. No more sport, she whispered. My turn now.
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They'd had the tests. All Cynthia wanted to do was create. She made a giant testicle out of papier mache and hung it from the ceiling. She didn't feel the need to replicate the cavernous void she needed to fill. It was staring him in the face all the time.
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