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And thus he rises up from his grave. Swollen eyes and blue lips purse themselves against the cold rain that falls down from the sky. A light drizzle more, really, he thinks as he shakes the dirt off his shoes and takes a step out on the wet ground beside him. Of all the days to rise from the dead, he had to pick a Thursday. Just his luck.
» Posted By Intermission On 11.29.2012 @ 1:05 pm