Sometimes, in hindsight, people aren’t things entirely foreseen, though perhaps unforeseeable in perception with acception.

Trick her, he happily does, with visions of flapjacks and blue juice memories dancing deceptively through the washed mind she long ago choreographed.

Speckles lightly, my unanabashedly duplicitous secondary attire.

Wishbone pulled by six with the force of an ant crushing a robin’s egg.

You can’t win them all all, but if you cheat [yourself] you can always think you’re winning.


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