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He stops pacing in the midst of introducing a whole new train of thought in lieu of the derailed. “The store, the store…” he parrots his own words like a broken record. It’s like he’s commanding the rusted cogwheels in his brain to start rotating. Each of his little shadow-flame brain cells scramble onto the motionless locomotives to try and get them up and running again.
Never chatted over email before. But this one girl from my school didn’t have any socials, so we exchanged emails instead. It’s kind of a bummer that her XBox apparently broke, otherwise we would’ve been able to play Minecraft together as she stated that she loved to play it.
Clopfic? that sounds intresting
Lids sounds like a disease
But they make hats lol
Pffft-