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Fiction
Top voted Fiction
#5331voted by our readers
By Anonymous
I hate crying. When teardrops slip down my cheek and onto my pillow case I feel weak. The same as a deer feels weak before a hunter’s mighty gun, or a small kid backing down from a...
I hate crying. When teardrops slip down my cheek and onto my pillow case I feel weak. The same as a deer feels weak before a hunter’s mighty gun, or a small kid backing down from a...
