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Long narrative prose
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Narrative in progress
She hung her head in a lime colored room staring into the glass as she watched the small Amber waterfalls off the icebergs in the Crystal they ran up and down like rivers in her dreams her dream world flashing between the couch and the sky trying to distract her panic
He sat there staring at her her month and the tiny movements of her lips
she spoke to her glass and rolled it the movement of her fingers sinerining him as if she was on the Rock calling to Ulysses.
She saw him
