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“Wind against the goggles. Cool night air against her cheeks. She roars on into the night, hissing and clanking and smoking. She heads toward the glow of the big city, with sparks trailing behind her like dying moths.” — Shawn P. McCarthy
Wind against the goggles. Cool night air against her cheeks. She roars on into the night, hissing and clanking and smoking. She heads toward the glow of the big city, with sparks trailing behind her like dying moths.