"We must go." Henry muttered as he rolled a washcloth into a tight burrito. There were nine burritos in all before he began to put them away. It was a trick he learned in order to save space when packing. He managed to stuff, shove, and wiggle all of the washcloths into place. He stood back from the bag and said, "Okay Julie, I think the bleeding has stopped." He checked her throat to make sure none of the washcloths stretched out her windpipe. Satisfied with his work, he closed his wife's mouth and placed sunglasses over her dead eyes.
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This calmed my wandering soul and my blood-thirsty popped-up eyes.