Hey, Sawyer,” I say slowly, a sound like waves and roaring in my head. I slip my index finger through my key ring and squeeze, the cold metal biting into the flesh of m
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through the window at the frozen, neon-bright churning like he’s expecting the mysteries of the universe to be revealed to him from inside. Come to think of it, maybe he is. I stop. I stare. I need gum and a soda and a
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luminescent
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I was part of the scenery, blending in, so familiar as to be completely invisible to the naked eye.