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The pain of my wrist causes stars to float before my eyes. I hear and
smell familar things. The wobble of a mop bucket. The smell of bleach and
sawdust. The squeak of grip shoes. All evidence points to a janitor nearby
but I can't see a damned thing, the pain! "Come with me if you want to stay human." says a voice.
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5/3/2007 8:12:13 AM
Extending Enabled
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