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... pretty maiden flower who, by these times of intense rain and storm, would blossom splendidly rather than drown. Her silver green bangs were low on her forehead as the rain soaked—no, flooded her, and the wind blew past her.

When she, at last, undid her slight bowing, the boy who saved her had turned back to her, had walked up to her, and now placed a warm hand on her head. In the two-headed silence, where no voice spoke but the heavy rain and wind, she gazed into my bright, blue eyes, as I ...

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