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a wife is a kind of creature that restores your hit points when you talk to it
"So, why are you hosting an 'End Of The World' party?"
She turns to me, cheap plastic cup in her hand the same colour as her perfect manicure. Her white-gold hair trails a sweet scent as it stirs the air. Her classically beautiful face twists in a way I somehow feel it isn't supposed to.
"Why?" she laughs, and I shiver. "Because, my pet, I am ending the world."
With that simple explanation, she returns to her previous conversation.