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Channel Street

After much consideration, Wen decided this would be a justified murder—if the stranger’s suspicions were true. Crouched behind a bush near the channel, he waited for the two runners. There they were. One black, one white; shirtless, sweating, and wicked. They were naked in no time and for three minutes, enjoyed each other so aggressively that Wen felt ashamed to watch. Each minute was stolen, and payment was past due. Across the still channel, the stranger cried silently as he watched the runners. Devastated, betrayed, butcher knife in hand, Wen cried too. The black one, Wen’s husband, would perish first.

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