Nicketa Fox

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Anxiety circled like a viper waiting to attack with its crippling venom. Pressure closed my throat, a steel vise squeezing until it eked every last breath out of me. An icy burn crawled up the back of my neck and then splashed across the base of my skull. My next breath hitched, and I felt it—the flash-flood feeling of losing all control. Breathe. I needed to breathe.
The Problem with Forever
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