_What value has a promise when you make it to the Father of Evil? To slay him, I could promise anything--and still be free of sin. Indeed, his death would make me holier._ My leg itched. The knitting fracture beneath the cast was letting me know in no uncertain terms that a simple fracture is simple in name only. There is nothing like a nagging, unscratchable itch. It doesn't really hurt, but after awhile it can become unadulterated torture,--and all you can do is grin and bear it. Ultimately you stop grinning.…
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