Mother’s awful tongue was displayed on the mantel in a Perspex cube, swimming in a bath of clear formalin.
She was sitting at the head of the table, looking disappointingly shrivelled, a loose stitch protruding from beneath her left ear. Gemma’s business specialised in rabbits and guinea pigs, but it wasn’t bad for a first attempt.
“How did I do?” Gemma asked her wife.
Ruby winked across the table, twirling a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs around her finger. “She always worried about what we got up to…why don’t we give her a show?”
Gemma loved this woman
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