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The Silence of the Lambs

By: Thomas Harris Series: Hannibal Lecter Series

Fiction Mystery & Thrillers
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'Starling went down the dim corridor alone. She did not look into the cells on either side. Her footfalls seemed loud to her. The only other sounds were wet snoring from one cell, maybe two, and a low chuckle from another.
'Dr Lecter wore the white assylum pyjamas in his white cell. The only colours in the cell were his hair and eyes and his red mouth, in a face so long out of the sun it leached into the surrounding whiteness; his features seemed suspended above the collar of his shirt. He sat his table behind the nylon net that kept him back from the bars. He was sketching on butcher paper, using his hand for a model. As she watched, he turned his hand over and, flexing his fingers to great tension, drew the inside of the forearm. He used his little finger as a shading stump to modify a charcoal line.
'She came a little closer to the bars, and he looked up. For Starling every shadow in the cell flew into his eyes and widow's peak.
'"Good evening Dr Lecter."
'The tip of his tongue appeared, with his lips equally red. I touched his upper lip in the exact centre and went back in again.
'She heard the slight metallic rasp beneath his voice and wondered how long it had been since last he spoke. Beats of silence.'

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