Take it from someone who knows, Blake. We need at least one other person full time on the hotline. He'd done that for me. She held up the picture, which they'd brought in one of those art carriers that looks like a thin briefcase.
I could feel my body cooking with the heat of it, as if my skin was a container for something so much hotter than human flesh. It was a small one, no screaming, no clawing, just that helpless spasming, and not much of that by my standards. It left me blinking, and only after I could see through the warm dazzle of it, did I wonder, where am I? and why am I on the floor? I don't think he knew how often he made that motion until today.
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