Category: Writing
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Connor’s Kipper Snacks
His was a loving scowl, a knowing joke, almost constantly crabby, otherwise, endearingly, singing. A voice, a tone, tuned to resonate in your bones, that warm feeling without the stasis. Even the breaths were suspenseful. Always a head of hair. …
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this is fun, maybe the angry street machines want to play too
I think he wants me to run, but I’ve never seen him so far away from me, especially not here, and there are so many more interesting things to use my senses and muscles for. Besides, we’ve been over here, …