I fell silent under her stony glare. I tried to keep going, but I couldn't. Blight had the opposite of a reality distortion field. A reality assertion field.
A sudden disconnection cut me off in mid-phrase.
It's become impossible to keep abreast of all the best-ofs, as labels keep foisting greatest-hits albums on overwhelmed consumers.
my Mothers bloud Runs on the dexter checke, and this ſiniſter Bounds in my fathers:
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