⟪ If the dead could walk... there is a chill running down her spine at the thought. She likes her problems dead and buried, gone for good, killed by her twin's blade or snuffed out like candles in the night by poison. This only works, however, if the dead stay dead.
It may be for the best if she seats herself next to the girl, the lumpy straw shifting uncomfortably beneath her. ⟫
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It may be for the best if she seats herself next to the girl, the lumpy straw shifting uncomfortably beneath her. ⟫
How?