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The sky is a strange color. Not quite red but too violent to be orange. I search for the sun, imagine it tired and bitter, slouching away from another long shift. I find it hovering over New Jersey. Poor sun.
The sky is a strange color. Not quite red but too violent to be orange. I search for the sun, imagine it tired and bitter, slouching away from another long shift. I find it hovering over New Jersey. Poor sun.