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oldwickedsongs August 28 2012, 05:39:00 UTC
And take what you will tonight, I'll give it as fast And high as the flame will rise, Nucky, R (tw: two racial slurs, suicide references, and murder)

There are times you dream.

Not of the war memorial, or what came before that although when you wake your hand always hurts but you’re never sure if it’s from the fire poker or the gun shot that missed. Those things don’t enter your mind, like when June says Eli’s wrote and you never ask about what but simply cut the check, blot it and pass it along. Margaret seems to understand better than most and tugs Teddy and Emily, claiming a headache. You’re thankful for moments like that and can almost remember loving her.

And the nights you dream of her clutching your straight razor flee.

She would never. She doesn’t need you that much.

Emily still wakes up, crying. She mews like Jimmy did when the fever took him and Gillian of course wasn’t there because how could she risk losing him to the malaria. So it was you, sleeves rolled up humming something broken and tuneless because it wasn’t ( ... )

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