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I held in my hand the most delicate, thin, fragile, strongest form I have ever held.
There is a casket in the front. Open. I see myself, younger, with my eyes closed and arms crossed. A funeral director in a suit standing by. Legs spread out and his arms crossed too, why is he wearing sunglasses?
it's 12:52 am. shouldn't there be another word already? i am deciding whether to go downstairs and watch tv or stay here or go to my bed since there is no new word.
Above the mountains, above the clouds, Samantha woke up. The campfire had sizzled out. Her friends were gone. She had scraps of bread for breakfast. That was it.