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Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.
More in Dregs & Other Unreadables remembering how my uncle died'he has the .. cancer ...' she whispered low just below the table hoping she wouldn't catch it or give it to anyone else 'is it bad' someone asked she shook her head 'it's... cancer...' what more to say? why even ask? as good as dead really my as well find a hangman or a marksman less suffering that way and no whispering after. |
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