Whitney FI

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I clench my jaw as the camp locks into place around us. The heat of the forest was smothering, but this heat under the open sun is invasive. I feel the last particles of cool air—from the car, from the restaurant—burn from my lungs as summer swallows me from the inside out. I am claimed. The uncanny familiarity is within me now; there’s no going back.
The Honeys
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