[I'm on a cruise ship. I know this from the impossibly small and yet hotel-like room I woke up in, overlooking the open water and the tiny little television playing nothing but what they want me to see. The room is a microcosm of a larger entity. It pretends to be that of an actual hotel room, and that annoys me. Dexter is sitting on the edge of
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[A child. Huh.]
[I like children.]
And what's your name?
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Go get smashed or something. It dulls the boredom.
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[Stuck for the rest of my life.]
[...I wonder how long that's going to be.]
What do you mean by "stuck"?
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Uh, you know. Stuck. Can't leave.
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Ever.
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[He texts back, not needing to put up a front with verbal inflection:]
Why can't I look foreward to going home.
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Why are we going to the Golden Shore.
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Just kickback and try to have some fun, before tings start gettin' weird again.
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["Again?"]
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[This could be bad.]
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