“That’s how we all think of ourselves, as people in a tale. Living our stories. But if you live long enough, you see it’s not a story at all. It just keeps going. People come and go, like butterflies in the wind. Cruelties don’t always meet justice. And maybe you’ll never meet the end you wanted, or expected, or deserve. Maybe you’ll never meet an end at all. Eventually you’re just left with scraps. Pieces of unfinished stories. Threads of tales no one ever got to live.”
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