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Fred blinks, trying to decide if he is seeing things. Is this really Tiffany here before him, sharing the flesh of the same corpse? Dare he believe his rotting eyes? But there she sits, and here he sits, and — what is he waiting for?
“Tee-fee-nee…” Fred mumbles, hardly audible over the slopping of meat and the snorting grunts of his eager dinner-mates.