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... e Quinn came back before lunch—looking at the training "sticks" we were making in the workshop. And with a brief explanation, she understood the assignment—but funnily enough, she made one of those "Shake Weights" with different lengths and thicknesses by using scrap metal bars and springs.

"You—"

"Variety’s good, right? It wouldn’t matter as much if you could power through them all, right?"

"You do know I’m a finesse kind of guy, right?"

She chuckled, "Would it h ...

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'Nina?'The thought hit me before I even really processed who it was. Nina Shoka from my class. She was just walking along, probably listening to music, totally unaware that this car had lost control and was sliding right toward her.I didn't think about it. Didn't weigh the pros and cons or consider my options. My legs just started moving.I dropped my phone and sprinted toward her. The car was maybe three seconds away from hitting her when I slammed into her side, pushing her as hard as I could toward the sidewalk.She went flying, landing hard on the concrete but definitely out of the car's path.Me? Not so lucky.The impact felt like getting hit by a train. One second I was pushing Nina to safety, the next I was flying through the air. Then I hit the ground and everything went wrong at once.I couldn't move my legs. Couldn't really move much of anything, actually. There was this weird warm feeling spreading across my chest and stomach, and when I tried to breathe, it felt like drowning.'Well, this sucks,' I thought, staring up at the sky. 'Guess that's what I get for being a hero.'My vision started getting all swimmy and weird, but I could make out Nina crawling over to me. She had pulled out her earbuds and there were tears streaming down her face.“Why did you do that?” she kept asking, over and over. “Why would you do that?”I wanted to shrug, but my shoulders weren't really cooperating. It seemed pretty obvious to me - she was in trouble, so I helped. That's what you do, right? Nothing fancy about it.She was talking to me, saying my name a lot. I didn't realize she even knew my name, to be honest. We had been in the same class for like three months and I don't think we had ever actually had a conversation.“Kofi, stay with me, okay?” she was saying. “You're gonna be fine. The ambulance is coming.”

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You’d think seeing the future would give me a head start on surviving the apocalypse. I had it all planned—until everything I knew shattered when my husband sacrificed himself to save me and our son. Now it’s just me, my three-year-old son Leo, and my cursed gift of foresight that only seems to kick in when it’s nearly too late.I’m doing my best to keep us safe, to find food, to make some kind of plan—“Mommy?”I glance down, trying to ignore the tug on my pant leg as I focus on our supplies. “Not now, Leo. Mommy’s thinking.”“Mommy!”I sigh and finally look down. My three-year-old is standing there, clutching… I blink. “Leo, where did you get a knife?”He shrugs, grinning like it’s the most natural thing in the world.My heart stutters. “No, really. Where did you find that?”I try not to laugh. I mean, he’s three. Maybe he just—found it somewhere? But the next day, it’s a water bottle. Then, a tiny flashlight, somehow with batteries still inside.I don’t even know what else; he’s pulling things out one by one with the pleased grin of a kid who’s just figured out his favorite game.Well, we may just survive this mess after all.Now, if only the universe could have spared me from him. I don’t even know his name, but I know his type: tall, broad, and annoyingly handsome, with an air of calm control that’s out of place in this chaos. Ex-military, if I had to guess, with a voice that’s just as infuriating as his smirk. The man has a habit of showing up at the worst—or best—possible times, with a gun at the ready and secrets buried as deep as those bright green eyes.I mean, he’s probably useful, but I’m trying to keep my eyes on the prize here: survival.For Leo and me.Because, foresight or no foresight, nothing is guaranteed in this new world—except the fact that people like him are trouble.

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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

—— Dickens《A Tale of Two Cities》

I made myself a ghost back to life from death, with hatred in my bones and conspiracy brewed for years, sinking into the marsh, into the abyss. All I want is to bury the rotten roots, growing thistles and thorns which can kill like upas, to stab into the hypocritical civilization.

In the bottom of the muck……I found my lucida.

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