Becca ⤮

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touch, and press, and sweetly, sweetly open before the first wan morning light seeped in at the window, touched the dusky wing of the moth on Lazlo’s brow, and—in a puff of indigo smoke—annihilated it.
Becca ⤮
Crying crying losing my shit
Strange the Dreamer (Strange the Dreamer, #1)
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