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{scene} juliet cook t’s hazy something like lightning bugs without their lights. If girls were flying insects, then you could rip off their wings. If girls were soft thoraxes, then you could cut out what makes them glow. I crawl around hiding my wings. I throb on & off underneath a dark shell. Most of the time, none of you can see me, but every once in a while I’m a flare, then I’m an accident scene. |
