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... loose one by one, metal squeaking against wood, then flipped the first leg around and tightened it in properly. My fingers were already getting sore, but at least now it looked like a table instead of some cursed art project.
I reached for the second leg, bracing it against my knee while I twisted the screwdriver hard. The wood groaned, settling into place. Sweat dripped down my temple.
When I glanced up, Tom was standing right there, hovering over me like a shadow. Arms folded, ...
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