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... OUR FACE AROUND HERE AGAIN!” Lydia ran away as the angry store owner shouted after her. She was clutching her bag, which she had hastily grabbed on her way out, as she ran around the corner. Stumbling because she tried to dodge a black cat that suddenly entered her pathway, she let go of it for one moment before catching herself on a nearby bench.
It was an old thing, covered in spray-paints that only the people who made them could think were any sort of artistic expression, and a few sp ...
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