The fact that they’d started fucking after almost fifteen
years of knowing each other hadn’t changed many of their
habits.
“I hate you,” Kelly groaned.
“Poor Boo Boo.”
“I hate your high tolerance,” Kelly groused. “I hate that I
can’t drink you under the table or knock you out with normal
drugs ’cause your stupid body is immune to chemicals. I hate
that when I try I wind up in a ditch in Mexico.”
“There there,” Nick cooed.
“I hate you so much.” Kelly’s hand in his back pocket as
they walked told a different story, though.
They headed for Boston Commons, which was a nice easy
stroll from the Liberty, and from there Nick explained that
the city had created a red brick line through the old town that led tourists along the Freedom Trail. It was a nice easy walk
that took people from historic spot to historic spot, all related to the American Revolution. They picked up the red trail and
followed it toward the Granary Burying Ground.
The morning sun hadn’t yet risen over the buildings
around them, casting the cemetery in a gloomy haze. Nick
led the way through the gate, glancing around at the crooked
headstones with their macabre carvings. It was an odd little
lot. It included the graves of Revolutionary heroes, including
Sam Adams and Paul Revere. In the center was a massive
monument dedicated to Ben Franklin’s family. The buildings
that had cropped up around the old burial ground had come
so close to the boundaries that their brick walls incorporated
headstones into them. Many of the headstones that had once
been here had been removed and used as sidewalks, and there
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were estimates that hundreds of bodies still remained beneath