Jerrod Games _ Stephen King _ txt Fiction Paradise

She thought and smiled. She ran her fingers around the cup she had had so much trouble getting at the beginning. She looked at it curiously for a moment — like a gardener who finds an unexpected variety among her edamame and peas — and then grasped it. She narrowed her eyes almost to a slit to protect them from the shards of glass. Then she smashed the cup against the shelf, the way people smash hard-boiled eggs. The sound of the glass was absurdly familiar, absurdly normal. This sound is no different from the sound of hundreds of cups. Over the years, she has either slipped them between her fingers or knocked them to the floor with her elbow while cleaning. There was no particular echo that she had begun that singular job, risking her life to save it. She did feel a piece of glass hit her just below the forehead, just above the eyebrows. But it was the only fragment that hit her face. Another piece — a large one, judging by the sound — swung off the shelf and smashed to the floor. Jessie's lips clenched into a white line, and she looked forward to where the pain was coming from, at least where it had started. Her fingers, clutching the cup as it crumbled, felt no pain, only a faint pressure and an even fainter heat. It was nothing compared to the spasms that had been gnawing at her for the last few hours. The cup must have had good luck. Why not? Don't I deserve some luck? Then she raised her hand and saw that the cup had no luck. Crimson blood bubbles gushed from the tip of her thumb and the middle of three of her four fingers, but only her little finger was not cut. Shards of glass stuck in her thumb, second and third fingers, like strange quills. The numbness in her limbs prevented her from feeling the tearing pain, but they were there. As she watched her fingers, big drops of blood began to drip on the pink mattress,Micro Gear Motor, staining it a darker color. Those narrow glass tips stuck in her middle two fingers like needles in a pincushion. Even though her stomach was empty, they made her feel like vomiting. You've become some warrior lady. The voice of an unknown object sneered. But they are my fingers! She called out to it. Can't you see that? They're my fingers! She felt a moment of panic. She pressed it back and turned her attention back to the broken piece of the cup she was still holding. This arc fragment is the top part of the cup, maybe a quarter of the whole cup. One side of the cup broke into two smooth arches. They were almost perfect, shining in the cold light of the afternoon sun. Good luck, then.. Maybe, if she can get up the courage to go on. To her, the curved piece of glass looked like an incredible weapon from a fairy tale — a miniature machete, something the warlike elves carried on their way to fight under the umbrella. Your brain is wandering, 24v Gear Motor ,12v High Torque Motor, my dear. Baby said. Can you afford to wander? The answer, of course, is no. Jessie put the quarter of the glass on the shelf. She lowered it carefully so that she could reach it without twisting her body too much. It lay there with its smooth, curved belly up, and its scimitar-shaped points pointing out. Reflecting a focal point of the sun, there is a flash of heat on the tip of the debris. She thought that if she was careful not to press down too hard, it might be very suitable for the next job. If the pressure had been too hard, perhaps she would have pushed the glass off the shelf or snapped the accidental blade. You have to be careful. She said, "If you're careful, you won't have to do your best, Jess.". Just pretending to be — But the rest of the idea doesn't seem to work. Therefore. She raised her right arm and stretched it out as far as she could, until the handcuffs were taut and her wrist hung from the shiny glass hooks. She wanted desperately to sweep the rest of the shiny bits of glass off the shelf-she felt it was a minefield waiting to be swept up-but she dared not. After the lesson of Nefya cream, she didn't dare. If she accidentally knocked the scimitar-shaped piece of glass off the shelf or broke it, she would have to sift through the remaining pieces for an acceptable substitute. This precaution seemed to her to transcend reality, and she warned herself that it was unnecessary. If she had been the least bit careless, she would have bled a lot more than she did. Just do it the way you understand it, Jesse, just like that.. Don't be timid. You won't be timid. Jessie said hoarsely as she stretched out her hand and shook her wrist, hoping to shake off the shards of glass stuck in her fingers. She had almost succeeded, only the fragments of her thumb, deeply embedded in the tender flesh under her fingernails, refused to come out. She decided to let it go and go on with the rest of the business. What you're going to do is absolutely crazy. A nervous voice told her. There's no sound of an unidentified object. The voice was very familiar to Jessie. It was her mother's voice. You know, it's not that I'm surprised, it's typical Jesse Mehter overdoing it. If I've ever seen this, I've seen it a thousand times. Think about it, Jesse-why cut yourself and then maybe bleed to death? Someone will come to save you. I can't imagine anything else. Died at a summer house? Dead in handcuffs? Ridiculous! Take my word for it. So rise above your usual grumpiness, Jess — just this once, don't cut yourself in that glass. Don't do that! That's her mother. The sound was so similar that it was puzzling. She wants you to believe that what you are hearing is love and common sense in feigned anger-although the woman is not entirely bad at expressing love. Jesse believes that the woman who walked into Jesse's house that day and threw a pair of high heels at her without a word of explanation was the real Sally Mehter. Other than that, everything the voice said was a lie,brushless gear motor, a terrible lie. Nope She said, I will never believe what you say. No one will come-except maybe the guy from last night. I'm not timid. With that, Jessie held her right wrist down toward the shiny glass blade. www.xiaoshuotxt。 com。