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... nd failing miserably.

This is an art form that no one has ever mastered — the act of "quiet packing" is a lie we tell ourselves, like "just one drink" or "this haircut will fix my life." My eyes cracked open just far enough to see Rodrick crouched over his bag, wrestling a tunic like it had personally insulted him.

The morning light leaked in through the shutters, pale and cold, and my body felt as if it had been filled with wet sand in the night. Salem was already up, of course, ...

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