Just a little something that came to mind after reading a short story by Stephen King. Kind of a mystery that I can't even seem to figure out. Can you?

Her beauty is like a seeping poison. It spreads through your veins; maddening, soothing, electric. It's alive, breathing and wriggling and slimy and sticky, slipping through your fingers like a pile of maggots. Twenty-one hours I knew her; one thousand two hundred and sixty minutes and she had me under her spell; seventy-five thousand, six hundred seconds and she has landed me in this prison.

The End

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