[.-- . . -...]

Rares killed my friend. She was too caught up in telling people that rares don't matter when her house was burning down. By the time the felt the heat it was too late. The door had been blocked with fire. She was blind, But she could do just fine on animal jam. Like it was her happy place, in her dreams, Where she belonged. The rare-thirsty Jammers killed her.

[.-- . . -...]

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