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The stench of drunken lowlives drifted through

  • The stench of drunken lowlives drifted through the tavern, drenching everything in a mist of putrid scents. Corran sat in the back, keeping an eye on everything. So far, nothing.

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  • Not like he was truly complaining. He was grateful, in a sense, for the cold calm. Corran closed his eyes for a brief moment, a sigh escaping his barely parted lips.

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  • During the war, he had never had the time to breath. Now he had too much time.

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  • The clock ticked. Birds outside tweeted. The ones indoors did not. They squawked! If only he could make sense of their gibberish, perhaps he could find a way out

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  • One of the birds squawked particularly insistently. "Squawk squawk squawk" it squawked. It's brightly colored plummage and rainbow mohawk looked familiar. He approached the cage.

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  • Up close, the caged bird bore a sharp resemblance to his late, alternate lifestyle aunt. Suddenly, the colorful fowl rolled over in a parody of committing suicide. Yup- Aunt 'Emo'.

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  • The caged bird got back on its feet and looked at me with a serious and slightly mournful gaze. "Let me out and I'll teach you how to sort and fold socks. Not that you look like a

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  • maid or anything, I just think that someone your age outta know how to take care of your socks.

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  • "My socks?" I could not believe it. I had been taking care of socks for the past few years. Me, not taking care of my socks? That's

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  • ridiculous. I spend practically all day with my socks, they’re one of the most important things to me. In fact, I realized just the other day, I might be in love with

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