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Thursday, April 1, 2010

Fashionably Paranoid.

"She wiped down the faceplate of the alarm clock with the corner of her sheets, and she sat up in the partially skewed 11am light. The well-loved timepiece had started to cloud with a few familiar shaped, lip-balm imprints; the hands almost seemed to be cutting through a cherry flavored fog as they counted down her day.

[...]

The stories, myths, and fables, had left a deep imprint on her that no one would be able to alleviate with rational argument. She was blindly convinced, but for now, it suited her. Everyone needs a quirk."

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