bound for flames
#29
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‘Too late,’ she wanted to voice. Everything was always too late. A decision, a plan, a goal, some misplaced effort left and lost along the way. “Maybe I should have known,” she said, not catching just how hopeless that actually sounded. Or maybe not so hopeless as it was wistful. “But if it's a disease, what stops all of us from having it?” Good breeding? That seemed laughable. The only good breeding there seemed to be was the breeding that didn't happen. Of course, who was to say that they weren't mad already—wasn't that a good possibility? Corona didn't know if it was something she should have been expecting or fearing. As if things could or would get any worse at that point, as if clarity would make a difference anywhere.

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