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City by kayla fry
She loved the city. She loved the burning in her legs as she rushed down the street. She loved the way her scarf never stayed where she tied it. She loved the buildings leaning in around her. She loved the lights of a million cars zipping past her and a million windows without curtains letting the cold office lights shine out into the even colder darkness. She loved the way each light made a dozen more shadows. She loved the wind that stopped her breath. She loved the screaming, wheezing, shouting, screeching, deafening noise that never stopped, never for a second. She loved the feeling of others’ shoulders pushing and suffocating and moving against her and never stopped, never for a second. She loved the feeling of not being able to speak, to think, to breathe, to do anything other than move and never stop, never for a second. She loved the city, the city that rushed and stayed and leaned and shone and shadowed and stayed and screamed and wheezed and shouted and scree…

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