Sailing and Sorority

The ship that we share is a beauty, with its forest green sails and polished wooden hull, and the blue glass eye hanging from the gleaming chrome rails of the prow. A beauty indeed, yet she pales in comparison to the wilderness she sails through.

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“It’s just… so heavy,” I said, on the edge of tears. I said it again, staring him down imploringly across the void of experience. Waiting for the voltage of my grief to rack his body with violent realisation. But as we said in better times, I guess you had to be there.

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