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A tiny tale . . .

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A very tiny story . . .

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“Listening to her is dreaming. He imagines her an angel singing sweet nothings — a capella, no less; the sound of it landing like a secret — a merciful white lie— in his ear, each note a wisp of sweet nothingness blown from a dandelion, floating in his direction, wish intact. He’s tempted to make one — a wish – but he’s too smart for that, making wishes and whatnot. Wishes are collectibles gathering dust, unanswered prayers, fool’s gold at the end of rainbows.”

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“To this moment, Leonid wishes he had learned to look the other way, but twenty-two years ago – on a Monday, working a crime scene, he’d walked around the wrong corner at the wrong time and locked eyes with one of the biggest baddest wolves on the force. In an instant, Grimm’s fairy tale ended. With a reputation for being a straight arrow, he was never asked for his loyalty or his silence. It was just made clear that his silence was the only option.”

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“On a good morning I’ve slept intermittently in two-hour stints. On others, like last night and the last two, I answer to the blue glow of my equally sleepless tribe while I nibble on the remnants of the day, living a recurring nightmare of self-cannibalism. Needless to say, morning by morning, I am consumed.”

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“The moon, time card punched, stares down the sun, threatening harm if it doesn’t come up on time. It’s not as if anyone in the City of Beacon will notice, the clouds all coffee klatched in a huddle along the horizon, blocking any chance of light and threatening to drop hot gossip in cool drops at any second. It’s been a long time since the sun rose anyone to attention in Beacon. It was a stroke of luck however, that both the dawn and rain broke at the same time.”

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COMING SOON!

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“She was a storm cloud of his making,
seeded by his doubts, . . . “

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“Dehydrated and short on sugar
wounds already healed
and calloused over with
no need of
first or
lemon aid
she
returned the lemon
to its puss
POW!”