Moca and her bread

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Moca: *writing in a notebook angrily* Love is dead and never existed. All you did was betray me while I laid sick and festering. You are the definition of dread.

 You are the definition of dread

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Himari: What happened?

Moca: Ran stole my fucking garlic bread

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Moca: Ran stole my fucking garlic bread

Moca: Ran stole my fucking garlic bread

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