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People just wanted to hear their own voices, your response a comma punctuating their monologue.
Sometimes it was best to just say yes, to see how far something could go.
The ocean looked still, softened by mist. It was pretty at night, she decided, and probably too few people saw it like this, the indifferent beach empty of humans. It was just itself: a stark edge.
Girls in drag as girls.
A vodka soda. It had an ascetic taste, like water gone sick. All the girls had ordered this, the drink of the female martyr.
