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Nią ciphered, siphoned, and summed. The books were in the red and she felt blue.
Thalia thumbed through twenty twenty-two. In just twelve months, the muses and their plucky little Typist had accomplished a thing or two — like conquering cancer and Covid.
“Have we not learned…” Calliope drummed her fingers on the table and looked at Urania, “… that we can make our world… or break our world… with our thoughts? C’mon now… we’ve got stuff to create.”
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