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She had practiced her technique on a fence outside an abandoned warehouse, being sure she could get it right--especially the part where the girl's body gradually disappears just beneath her heart, the way she had been disappearing all of her life. The image of the man towering over the girl was easy. Was it hate or hope that guided her hand as she deftly moved the aerosol can across the wall, telling the story that had kept her trapped inside her own fear all these years?
1 comment:
I love this!
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