The thought struck me that perhaps there had been some kind of precipitating event to trigger a need for the witch to be tried. I texted Dennis asking...him to e-mail the originals of all the town newspaper editions for a couple of months up to and including the edition mentioning the trial. Dennis eventually responded with a text of his own, saying that he’d have to get the originals from Dimitri since he only had the text-converted versions.While I was idly surfing the net in my room, waiting. He needs to be there. I need to go with him. Our vacation's off, so..."Okay, my mind went through a fast file check routine. I looked at the 'short honeymoon' tree. I looked at the 'family Thanksgiving' hierarchy. "Have you talked to Tim?" I knew the answer was 'no' because he'd've called me immediately for this sort of news."No, I know he's at work. I thought I'd talk to you. I mean, getting married, honeymoon..." We weren't planning on a big deal. We're having Thanksgiving dinner at his. Caroline didn’t mind. She had the house to herself. Buckingham Palace was the last time he had seen metal gates that were so impressive. Snowflakes danced in silent pirouettes from the early morning sky, floating in whispers of white feathers before settling on the ground like a butterfly resting on a flower. The car tyres crunched in the fresh snow, the windscreen wipers squeaking a painful tune across the glass, the splendour of the tree line drive and the endless row of snow covered. Movement to my left caught my attention, it was a couple over at the other resort, and even though they were quite a distance away&hellip,there was no question as to what they were doing. His back was slightly turned towards me but I could see her, and one copious tit bouncing unencumbered to each thrust he made into her. My audience was distracted&hellip,do not know what made me think they were my audience or why I should even care, but like a little kid throwing a tantrum for attention, I had.
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