In the back of Triela's closet, there was a long shelf filled with slim little diaries. Each of them was nearly identical: bland beige covers, scrupulously clean and cared for, stacked in little rows. The only thing to differentiate any of them were a pair of precisely drawn numbers on their spines
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"Hey." For an almost imperceptible moment Triela's mind blanked on the name, and for an equally imperceptible moment after that her eyes flashed angrily because she knew she should know this.
"Karla." There. Smooth recovery. Hopefully Karla hadn't even noticed that moment of confusion.
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"Want a seat?"
It was good to see Karla again, really. And... Triela was serious. She didn't imagine that stopping by later was going to be significantly better. Especially given the notes she'd been making.
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