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It takes a moment for my finger to skim the length of blue. It takes hours to track the spidery fingers that break up the land. The undercurrents are strong, though sometimes hard to see at the surface for what they are. The wind glances off the water and through the trees, whispering of what they see. Drawn once. Twice. Poisoned sweetness gliding into my ear in this dim, shaded place. It’s harder to say what you should when there’s nothing to hold over me. It’s easy to speak foully, easy to speak folly, easy to live as the shadow of the man you could be. I’ll not wait. I dare the waters that daily shift, and your fears will not cling to me.

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