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At the end of the long walk, the end of the beach, and the end of time.
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His feet grudgingly drug themselves up the bus stairs. One hand gripped the cold, steel rail. Over his shoulder was slung a single, black bby Holly Anne Fairden 200 words, 3 comments, on May 12 4:42 PM 2008. In Calling, City, Going away, Gone, Leaving, Past, Religious, Running away
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