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Tʜɪʀᴅ Pᴏɪɴᴛ ᴏғ VɪᴇᴡNᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 23ʀᴅ, 2004Oᴜᴛsɪᴅᴇ Oғ Tʜᴇ Qᴜɪʟᴇᴜᴛᴀᴇ Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

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Tʜɪʀᴅ Pᴏɪɴᴛ ᴏғ Vɪᴇᴡ
Nᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 23ʀᴅ, 2004
Oᴜᴛsɪᴅᴇ Oғ Tʜᴇ Qᴜɪʟᴇᴜᴛᴀᴇ Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

















Tʜɪʀᴅ Pᴏɪɴᴛ ᴏғ VɪᴇᴡNᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 23ʀᴅ, 2004Oᴜᴛsɪᴅᴇ Oғ Tʜᴇ Qᴜɪʟᴇᴜᴛᴀᴇ Rᴇsᴇʀᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

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𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙽𝙰 𝙻𝙰𝙶𝙾
𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝙻𝚃-𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙸𝚁𝙴𝙽









𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃, Mariana Lago had no honest clue where she was going or exactly what direction she was headed.

Having only just barely seen the street before she began to limp down it, on a pair of legs that she barely knew how to work given the fact that she'd only just managed to manifest them.

A pair of somewhat short, plump light brown legs that were littered with little brown spots confused Mariana to no end, but she still thought they were adorable, given they were her own.

However, it seemed as if her luck wasn't too bad given the large metal can that was headed in her direction, something due to her life underwater she couldn't recognize as a car.

And within it sat none other than Charlie Swan, the resident Sheriff of the very quaint Forks, Washington, who instead of paying attention to the road was slamming his hand against the old radio in his car.

And within it sat none other than Charlie Swan, the resident Sheriff of the very quaint Forks, Washington, who instead of paying attention to the road was slamming his hand against the old radio in his car

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