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... y shredded, the only piece of clothes on him were his third traded wrecked pants.
His shredded pants barely hung on his hips. Bare chest rising and falling. Every step rattled pain through his bones.
Later, glancing all around, he saw his stick on the cracked street, opposite his direction. The stick lay a few feet away, half-buried in dust and dried gore.
It had chipped on the tip, splinters on its edges. But he bent to pick up his stick anyways, dust coating his palms a ...
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