It had been three weeks now, to the day, that Mira James had been absent from class. Mrs. Pendleton sighed with regret as she rubbed Mira's name off of her desk. Truancy was a sad reality that she was powerless to stop, and the school always needed to make room for new students.

She rummaged gingerly through the shelf, searching for the pile of junk that seemed to accumulate in every seventh-grader's desk. It would all be in the trash soon, leaving room for the next student's pencils, stickers, and other belongings.

It was empty. Clean, even. With a frown,...

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As the walked along a long fenced pathway, she told Martin, that she was bringing him to a refugee camp, and that she couldn't tell him what time it is, because no one knows. She handed him a pair of binoculars. "Take these." Martin took the binoculars and she pointed her finger into the snowy distance. Can you make out that small shed out there?" Martin looked around in the distance, but could eventually see the shed she was talking about. "I do." "Listen, Martin, I need you to trust me now. You need to climb that fence, and run...

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You know damn well the head is in the box. You know damn well how this movie will end. But her legs are across yours and she shaved. They're smooth like you could have only guessed, because in winter she was all jeans and tights.

You've been hovering with your hand on her knee and she's so into this damn movie that you've seen one hundred times. She hasn't mentioned that she thinks about sleeping with Brad Pitt, but you see the way her eyes get when he comes on screen. She has yet to give you those eyes, but...

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'Pension.'

'No, come on, you stil saying it like an American.'

'I *am* an American.'

'Yeah but you're in Paris now.'

'You mean Paree.'

'Piss off. Now say it again. Pawn she on.'

'Nah. Too hard. It's pension.'

'I'm not going through with this unless you at least try.'

'Fuck it. I'm not. Grab the overhead bags and let's get off the plane.'

'No. I'm not getting of the plane until you at least try.'

He checked the tickets. 'How much does it cost to change the return flight?'

'You want to stay longer?'

'No. I'm changing it to the...

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They had come up this mountain every wensday evening for the last three years, from the creation of there IOGT-lodge. The first one in this country and now there outdoor meetings was to come to an end. The lodge house was soon to be finished and there common soberity had a place to live

Indeed in a hundred years another generation will look at this photo and now the story some even beeing related to the heroic pioners of the movement.

How the small movement for soberity started in New York state now lived on and inspired so many generations...

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The oil had come months ago now. They had thought it would disappear. It had always done so before.
But it had remained. It had refused to go. It had clung to them, like a desperate duckling clinging to a mother, only this duckling was parasite.
It had tainted them.
There was no escaping it. None whatsoever. They had tried it all, but it followed them. They wore it like a winter coat they had no reason for. It was summer now.
So he had set out, away. That had been his goal at first, but later when he saw...

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the city was empty
winter empty, not
summer empty
snowstorm home-bound, not
bound for Myrtle Beach, or
flown to Florida or
wherever the hell
the neighbors went.
Christ, doesn't anyone stay
home anymore?
Sit on the deck in frayed nylon
beach chairs?
I can't even find them in
the stores anymore.
what happened?
where did everyone go?
it's the city...
it should
never
be
empty.

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It was difficult getting to people to understand that actually you wanted to be in the cage. That the cage was the safest place at the moment.

The rest of the world had gone mad - or at least, it seemed that way. Maybe the world had always been like this, maybe there had always been something in a stranger's eye, maybe there was always something in the rain that made it taste funny.

Maybe the drugs were wearing off, maybe he was finally waking up to the reality. Or the drugs were taking effect, maybe he was devolving (he'd...

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Fireman? Firewoman? Fire...person?

Esme sighed as she approached her firetruck. The trouble with magic, she reflected, was that while it got you where you need to be quickly, that sometimes meant that you skipped over important parts of the path.

It had been a simple enough spell of purpose; she paid her fifteen hundred dollars, and in return she got given her perfect career. The career that she would enjoy the most, be most suited for...the career that would make her happy.

Purpose was a popular spell-type, and it had definitely resulted in a happier populace, but no one had...

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Penelope loved the fountain, loved the way the water sprayed, cooling her in the hot sun, making her clothes cling as she called her joy to the heavens.

"What are you doing?" asked the man in the blue uniform.

Some sort of park official, thought the girl. "Nothing. Just enjoying the water."

"This isn't a waterpark, you know," said the man, a note of disapproval hanging from his lips like a dangling cigar, ready to drop and burn.

"So?" she asked. She kicked up a fine spray as her feet pattered against the thin layer that had built up over...

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