At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.
That sun, that light had faded, and she had faded with them. Now she was as grey as the season itself.
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That sun, that light had faded, and she had faded with them. Now she was as grey as the season itself.
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