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Out of context: Reply #37

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• Rand0

  strolling the grounds of my ruined estate I assess the damages: in the fountain, the twin swans, dead from apparent malnutrition; crashed nose first in the driveway, as if dropped from a helicopter, the scorched remains of my beloved 1962 Impala; on my hands, where thumbs used to be, bloody lumps of gauze. Opposable thumbs: the last thing separating a man from an animal.

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