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The keen edge of my envy was like flint, a spark away from fire.
His presence was like a stone in my shoe, impossible to ignore.
“She’ll hate me now,” I said. “She already hates you,” he answered, with a flash of smile.
“And perhaps you should get some new stories, so I don’t fucking kill myself of boredom.”
The funeral pyres burn through the night, their greasy smoke smeared across the moon. I try not to think how every one is a man I know. Knew.
