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A Scarred Wonderland
I. Giant, multicolored sails litter the rolling turquoise waves of the Pacific. From this distance, they’re like flecks of paper mache swaying back and forth in the wind, waving little goodbyes as they drift farther and farther out. There’s a hard metallic clank as the hatch locks into place. “All set,” a twanging southern voice calls out. In the mirror, a slim shape in a tank top and a straw Stetson gives a thumbs-up, a radiant smile etched on a heart shaped face. Abigail has this weird...
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