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... ored.
I said it out loud, my voice drifting off the balcony in a light, sing-song lilt that sounded almost like a nursery rhyme. It was a beautiful sound, musical, airy, perfectly pleasant. If you were standing on the beach below, you’d think I was just another rich boy sighing over which vintage of champagne to open next.
The reality was a bit more... jagged. This wasn’t the kind of boredom you get on a rainy Sunday afternoon. This was the heavy kind. The kind that feels like le ...
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