The drips of blood that trailed him like scarlet breadcrumbs assured him that this wasn’t a dream.
“When We're Together I Start To Feel Like Butterflies Are Fluttering Around Inside,
And We're Walking, Talking, Smiling And Holding Each
Others Hand:} <3”
―
And We're Walking, Talking, Smiling And Holding Each
Others Hand:} <3”
―
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Morgan’s 2025 Year in Books
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