A Short Story in the Third Person
This morning Lydia was walking/jogging (yes you read correctly, JOGGING! LYDIA WAS JOGGING OH MY GOD) around lovely beavertail when she came across a clearing where a deer was munching on the foliage of an unassuming shrub drenched in early-morning dew. A normal person (especially an 18-year-old, technically-adult
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love,
Clara
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love,
Alina
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