Mr. Todd tasted the sharpness of Death Herself, sudden and swirling and suffocating like a necktie knotted far too tight. It tasted like his neighbor and her black lace and her curls like tendrils that grabbed his face and plunged through his ribcage to claw viciously at his fading heart.
Mr. Todd did not fear death as much as he feared that Mrs. Lovett would break her promise.
أنت تقرأ
Aren't There Butchers Enough?
قصص الهواةdeath is for the alive, my dear. -x- C O M P L E T E
