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The Weapon of Young Gods #7: Crippling Nostalgia

The wind was just starting to whip up when the boy arrived, late, to meet me on the pier at the harbor. The fucking harbor! When he got there I asked him why in the world he’d need me to show up here, in mid-December, so late in the afternoon that any remaining sunshine would bestow no warmth on anything, and do you know what he said?

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