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“She wrote his name on a piece of paper and lit it with a match. The letters curled as they turned dark and misshapen until she didn’t recognize them. They were figments of something that she had done in her past, lost into some other form of existence.” — Eric Overby
She wrote his name on a piece of paper
and lit it with a match.
The letters curled
as they turned dark and misshapen
until she didn’t recognize them.
They were figments of something
that she had done in her past, lost
into some other form of existence.