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The body appraisers were at the shopping mall. Sil vous plait mark me... It would be kindly appreciated.


        A wind blows the curtains in slow motion, I see them in the corner of my eye. That should mark me down by at least two dollars. Labeling it on the clipboard as psychotic upheavings.


        Just shut up. Shut up.


        I look at myself often, like what I see. Fiery eyes -- I pretend relaxation and they appear normal very rapidly. I figure I use that ability often. My neck is wet and hot; as soon as I wipe the wetness onto my hands, that will look normal too.


        I can go back into the other rooms, confident that I will not give anything away. The way it is supposed to be.


        To me, graves, peaceful. A carry-over from the days when that was morbid. Picking flowers away when I need some to give to a sick friend. I save money. Cross hatchets meters, 


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