Toad was suffocating in the August air. It felt thick and dry in his lungs as he breathed, still warm even without the sun…
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A huge puddle had formed outside the door. The rain came down in diagonal lines. The trees opposite me shuddered under the weight of the water.
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He was sitting on the sofa with his guitar, strumming. A notebook was open on the desk and a fountain pen, lid off, lay on the blackened page…
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Essentially – wait, no, I’m not an essentialist. Basically – well, it’s not that basic…
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