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Keys.

Lovely ghosts and empty swings swaying with the wind. No company, just the echoes of the young deceased. Sickly fingers will grip the chains, refusing to comply with the laws of death. Forever he will be searching for the mother that never wanted to hold him. And everyone's hearts have been locked up for the night. Amidst the chafing winter air, the boy's eyes flicker with shimmering tenderness.





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