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Fiction ∙ "A friend’s father’s moonshine rearranges my insides, makes me vomit up the sun."
Poetry ∙ "While you mix with your wand hand, call up your preferred real estate blog with the other. Invoke the well-lit corners: the warm and untouched homes of northside, east, west, southside, and Grand Designs.”
Fiction ∙ "Dear Able-Bodied Nerd, I first suspected something was up when my cybernetic leg braces started playing “These Boots Are Made For Walking” by Nancy Sinatra every 100 steps I took."