She stared at the little pile of white petals. Eight, though there should have been nine. She’d been too fucked up to realise that touching the first one she saw - there, sitting innocently right next to her hand - would be a very fuckin bad idea.
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The gun is shaking. Can’t keep it still. Gotta keep it still. Brown skin, gray suit, white shirt
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Thank you.
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i have that icon on my regular journal. :-P
but awesome story. :)
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