Peculiar David Barlow A Short Story by Untitled writer Virginia Butterscotch looked at the warped sandwich in her hands and felt angry. She walked over to the window and reflected on her quiet surroundings. She had always loved beautiful Madrid with its thankful, tricky tunnels. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel angry. Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of David Barlow. David was a peculiar patient with ample legs and fluffy ankles.
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