The air changes. Then that invisible spider crawls up my spine, tickling the hairs behind my neck. I have come to know this spider these last couple of years. It whispers there__ something else in the room, breathing with you, watching you, grinning at you.I hate that damn spider.
Would that we could choose the last image we see before death closes our eyes forever to this world.
The Shape of Rain: A conspiracy connecting the Iraq War and the moon landings
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Would that we could choose the last image we see before death closes our eyes forever to this world.
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