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... She tilted her head to the right, lost in thought. Her chest felt lighter and tighter at the same time. She’d heard his voice with her real ears for the first time in a long time. The dreams she’d had about him weren’t the same. The memories of his heroic persona were all a performance. The only time she’d heard the real Otis speak was in the end, on that day, when she’d sat atop him with a knife in her hands, unable to cry over the deaths of everyone on the planet. Unable to grieve with anyone ...
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