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44 lines
1.3 KiB
Text
44 lines
1.3 KiB
Text
.LP
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.ce
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.ps 16
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.CW
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NANA.TECH
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.R
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.ps 8
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.CW
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tags: 1928, nana_mold, plinth_mold
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.R
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Diagoro relaxed his stance only a little as Grandma hobbled over to
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the cupboard. By the Orb on the kitchen counter, he could see that
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traffic out of the San Jose backbone was slowly reaching its peak.
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Very little time now. Grandma jumped when the teacups reached parity,
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and for a moment he thought that she might be in danger of fainting,
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toppling over. A reassuring expression of recognition (resignation?)
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gradually bled into her face, and she settled back down into her
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slippers, returning to the cupboard as the black tide line in each
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porcelain vessel miscegenated with 2% milk.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"There's really not time for this, Nana," Diagoro breathed thickly.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"You just close your ill\-filtering little mouth. You'll eat this
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and you'll like it. And then we can go and put down your little
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foreign barbarian whore or whoever it is this time and I'll wear a
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smile for you then."
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Grandma pressed brittle hands into her apron, smearing grease from
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her tools onto the linen. She snapped closed the aluminum case of her
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rifle. After tonight she would tell Diagoro, like so many before him,
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that he was a Mold.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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For now, she simply said:
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.PP
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.ps 10
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"I'm going to shoot this bitch myself."
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