chaoticdryad

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“I wish you’d never given me that pet biscuit. It’s not worth it,” Prepotente said to his dead mother’s ashes. “We’d all be gone now. It would be quite better, wouldn’t it? We’d be together.” I could barely hear him over the rain. But no, I realized. The rain had stopped once again. My head throbbed.
The Butcher's Masquerade (Dungeon Crawler Carl, #5)
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