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In thoughts,

Whirling

Whir, whir, whir. I try to concentrate on the sound of the ceiling fan. The air gently blows onto my skin and caresses it lovingly.  Whir, whir, whir. That's all I want to hear and feel. Not the screaming in my head, not rush of green envy in my veins. I saw something I shouldn't. Or perhaps it was none of my business...

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