He excused himself from his nephew, ran a comb through his hair, buttoned up a clean shirt, and told his eight-year-old son to man the fort while he was gone.
[…] bold yet complex, lively yet reflective, scintillating yet groovesome, fast yet mellow...
The ground was covered with snow, glaringly white even under that pinpoint Sun.
I just learned what an inbox is; I wouldn't have the slightest clue on how to use an innernet.
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