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alterego
Surrounded by generations of kindness and the warm sounds of her loved ones welcoming the impending joyful holiday season, she could only discern the sound of her own shadow whispering to let this be the last night she heard anything ever again.
goodlittlenothing
I shall never get you put together entirely.

The messages are inconsistent. But I have viewed them all. And I know.

I think of you when I hear The Growlers. And all the authors.