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Restaurant Booth"I saw her yesterday." "Yeah?" "Yeah." "What did you guys end up doing?" "Same thing
we usually do." "I gotcha." "Yep...but - I don't know - she was acting a
bit...weird, I guess." "Hmmm. How so?" "We were watching a movie at her house and I
got up to check the time in the kitchen (she really needs to fix that clock...) and
when I came back, she looked like she had been crying, or something; her eyes were
sort of pink and her makeup looked a little smudged. I didn't want to embarrass her,
so I didn't say anything." "...Interesting." "Yeah, I know. But when I talked to
her, shs sounded like she was perfectly fine." "Hmmm...that doesn't surprise me that
she would do that, actually." "Do what?" "Brush it off like that. She would NEVER
let anyone catch her crying. You know that." "Yeah, I know...but wait - she's cried
in front of me before..." "Really?" "Definitely. When that one guy broke up with
her. She cried for at least an hour and a half." "Seriously?" "Yeah." "Wow...that's
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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