[she sits on a small chair made of hands interlocking fingers. The trees rise around her large and anonymous and the journal sits open in her lap. Though the small camera is covered with a thumb that she has blossomed from the page.]
[She has read it three, four, five times now but nothing changes. There is no new clue to unravel, it is as real as
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[She's so fixated on the picture that she doesn't bother to check who it's from. Give it time.]
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I am.
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Oh, another of the Straw Hat crew, or just looking for them?
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Maybe neither.
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Who is this, are you part of my crew?
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I'm pretty sure.
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