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Death is only final in the physical sense . . . when it comes to love, it’s undying.
“On clear nights, when the stars were white on black instead of smoggy gray, we’d lie on the roof together and say cheesy things like, ‘At least they can’t charge us for moonlight.’ Although later they did, by way of imposing a curfew and fining those of us who broke it.”
― Where Futures End
― Where Futures End
L. Soper’s 2025 Year in Books
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