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... scape this place?
The thought circles me relentlessly.
I am drifting.
The world feels like a broken reel of film, looping pieces of my youth in front of my hollow eyes.
Watching myself stumble through the fragments of my teenage years, powerless to change them? This is the worst torture I’ve ever known.
I force a sound from my throat. A call. A plea.
"Junior? Roger?"
My voice vanishes into the thick air. Nothing answers. No chirp, no snarl. ...
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