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Adverse conditions led to a pile-up in Typist’s cranium. Fluids mixed, congealed, and leaked.
Thalia shouted from the left. “C’monnnnnn! Let’s just go! — Nobody’s hurt!”
Urania dug in her heels on the right. “Must wait for an officer.”
Calliope looked at her food color stained palms. Unbridled peals of laughter bubbled from her depths as she remembered a phrase gifted from an early writing acquaintance. “Why… so… serious?”
Fluids continue to mix, congeal, and leak — yet, the creative act of raiding an old toy bin and staging the photo above shifted everything!
Isn’t that wonder-full?
The only person responsible for my mood is… ME!
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