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Stories by Lightintheireyes
Closet
That memory hits me now, as her words hit me then, right in the gut. Less butterflies, more gentle punch.
Contraband
At night, I tell her the stories. The candle with our only light flickers and I'm reminded of flashlights und...
Un
"After this much horror, the risk was greater in losing our souls to their side, in identifying as part...