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| Subject: *New Short Story* Closer to Angels! Feedback please! | |
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Author: Kira |
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Date Posted: 22:03:29 05/08/02 Wed Lance had never known such pride, a wholehearted confidence in himself and his determination, as he was swimming in now. Looking back on the past unbelievable eight years that seemed like some well-scripted movie, he had never felt a sense of awe and honor in himself as he did now. Because then, he had four pillar of strength to depend on, that inspired him to push himself further. But today, he was standing on his own two feet, about to take a brilliant voyage into the stars and comets and beautiful black that he had imagined and dreamed about since he was born. But coupled with the slight arrogance came unfettered trepidation and fatigue. He was in Russia- a serenely beautiful country. It was chilly for spring, but the flowers still blossomed, the trees sprouting with green. Pulling on his mittens, he shoved his hands in his pockets, lazily strolling around the small city that encompassed his space training facility. It was a rarity that he got to venture out into the city, speak with people, practice his Russian slang. He was still picking up the dialect, but he felt like a part of the small town with gothic, but beautiful buildings. He walked slowly, strutting down the narrow, stone streets, his mittened hands shoved in his pockets. Lance was exhausted…the Russian Space Federation was thrusting him beyond the limit with their multitude of tests and obstacles. He knew that they would be a bit harsh for Lance was an American celebrity, barely in his twenties and thus stupid and incapable of completing their tasks, but he understood that they wanted to keep him safe and provide a positive reputation for their country’s space program. As much as Lance wanted to quit, to return to the safety net of NSYNC, he needed to do this on his own. He needed to just succeed and show everyone that told him he was stupid or turning his back on the music and people that cradled him that he was more than just the replaceable bass that faded into the haze of soul that Justin and JC created. For once, he wanted to shine above the rest. ** Justin wiped his mouth as he exited the bathroom. He moved through his home wrapped in darkness for the migraine that decided to ruin his day of peace wouldn’t allow him the luxury of light. With one hand gently rubbing his stomach, nauseous for the fiery agony that triphopped throughout his skull, between his eyes and down his neck, the other gently probed the walls, making sure he wouldn’t trip over any misplaced baby toys. Joey and Kelly were away for the weekend, attending the wedding of a friend in Arizona and Justin was the lucky uncle that got to watch their precious angel. Wincing at the glare of the mechanical fireplace, Justin peered into Brianna’s playpin and saw that Brianna was awake and oddly quiet. She was lying on her back, little fingers flicking the pink plastic handle of her pacifier back and forth. Her thick brown ringets were fuzzy, her warm purple sleeper was smudged with milk, but she was quiet and for the moment that’s all that mattered. Brianna bright blue eyes flicked over to those of her uncle and she suddenly disturbed her tranquility. Her eyes widened and she weakly reached up an arm to her uncle. Justin smiled, despite the white hot fire burning within his head and picked her up. Cradling the small child in the crook of his arm. She relaxed into him, her head lolling sleepily against his chest. Justin smiled and moved to the large chair and slid into its upholstered comfort. He pulled the blanket over himself and his niece and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. With gentle movements, he pulled the pacifier from inbetween her rosy lips and looped it through his fingers. “Nasty,” he whispered. When Brianna made no move to complain, Justin grinned and snuggled closer to her, a rich stream of notes slipped from his mouth as he rested his head on the back of the chair. He watched in amazement as the child in his arms slipped into sleep. Her head rolled to the side and he smiled. She was a beautiful child. A beautiful part of his best friend. With dark freckles peppering her cheeks, her mother’s eyes, her father’s smile. She had a unique spirit that was truly her own and Justin was simply in awe of her. When she learned something new or muttered a new syllable. He had a hold on her heart that couldn’t be matched. Justin, a tough guy by reputation, was reduced to tears when she giggled his name, when she took her first steps. When she graced this earth. Those blissful memories temporarily saved him from the ache in his head and he soon followed his niece into slumber. ** Lance sighed…a hollow depressing sigh as he locked the door to his dismal home for the next several months. It was more of a dwelling. He shrugged out of his jacket, rubbing the sore muscles in his neck. He moved through the gray room, tugging off his boots, turning on the small television for company as he pulled off his shirt and unbuckled his pants. The worn denim slid down his legs and he simply stepped out of them, not worrying about hanging them up. They added color to the room. He leaned into his dinky bathroom, turning on the water and leaving to gather up his pajamas. It took a good five minutes for the water to get hot enough to his liking, so he headed over to the small bag and pulled out the contents. He grabbed the large colorful vase that was very close to one that he had bought his mother and set it on the small table beneath the window. He then retrieved the container of push-pins and snatched the rolls of posters out of his closet. Unrolling the pictures of Destiny’s Child, he took his time straightening the corners, adjusting it to them perfect height. He smiled, proud of his handy work and moved to hang up several pictures of his family. Goofy snapshots of Chris and Justin. JC being serious for the camera. Joey and his godchild, Brianna. His mother, sister and father. By then, the shower was hot. Lance turned on the CD player in the bathroom and stepped inside, laughing pathetically at himself. “I’m definitely spoiled,” he muttered as he reached his shampoo. He had spent the past two years in the best hotel suites, eating the freshest fruits, wearing the most expensive clothes. His money was something he took for granted, but that was a luxury of his life. He had worked hard to achieve such a status and he felt he deserved everything he got, but he always turn to God and his family to keep him morally grounded. Lance spent most of his time with the more affluent crust of society and it was hard to remember that others suffered. His thoughts raged on and he did nothing to stop them. He needed to keep himself preoccupied for he loathed the silence. He did anything to avoid it. The lack of playful chatter or his mother’s trademark shrill giggle were painful reminders that he was alone in a strange country thousands of miles from everything he has known. The nights were the worst, because he had a curfew and he couldn’t go to some Russian club and dance the night away. Because he had been barred from drinking any type of alcohol since he began his training. Something was lonely about the moon rising across the sky and the cold darkness sweeping over the land. He closed his eyes, massaging the soap into his scalp and sighed. He was going to do this. He had worked so hard to get out of Nowheresville, Mississippi to make all of his aspirations come true. He had spent most of his life fantasizing about the stars and how the earth would look from thousands of miles away. He dreamed of having the sun’s perspective and being closer to God and angels. Most of his dreams were granted and this one wouldn’t be any different. The emotional struggles would make it that much more surreal. ** Justin startled and opened his eyes, turning his head, he coughed loudly. Brianna was awake, whimpering. Justin closed his eyes as he sat up too quickly and grabbed his head. “Baby girl, this is not the way I planned this weekend,” he said quietly, pushing the blanket off him. His shirt was damp and he was sweating. Justin closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please, don’t be sick…please…” Brianna began to cry and Justin checked his watch, doing his best block out her cries that only intensified the ache in his head. “It’s time for your bottle and then you and I can crawl in that big ole bed upstairs and watch movies. How does that sound?” Justin asked. Brianna’s cries softened as Justin picked her up and headed into the kitchen. Grabbing a clean bottle off the turntable, he pulled open the fridge, searching for the milk. But he couldn’t find any. “This is NOT happening!” Justin groaned, frantically pushing the bottles of red whine, apple juice and bottle water aside. He kissed a screaming Brianna and set her down and she promptly attached herself to his leg, wailing into the cotton of his track pants. “Baby, I know you want your bottle, but I can’t find any milk.” Brianna stopped crying and drew in a breath. Justin sighed and blessed his niece for understanding his pain. But a second later, a scream ripped through the air that nearly brought him to his knees. Justin closed his eyes and patted down his pockets, retrieving Brianna’s pacifier. He hurried to the sink, rinsing it off and he gently pushing it into her mouth. That satisfied her for the moment, but Justin knew it wouldn’t last long. He gathered her up in his arms and she began tugging on her ear, resting her head in the crook of his neck. With desperation, Justin snatched the cordless of the base and frantically dialed. “JC? What are you doing?” Justin asked impatiently. “Justin…I’m about to go to take my mother to the airport. I really need to go.” “You don’t have like ten extra minutes? I’m at Joe’s and the man doesn’t have any milk and I have, like, the biggest headache right now…” JC grabbed his keys and umbrella and shook his head. “I’m sorry, bro. I can’t right now. We’re running late as it is. I’m really sorry.” “Ugh, okay. Kiss Mama C for me.” “Don’t any think of driving if you took those pills, man.” JC warned. “I haven’t taken anything. Not when I’m watching her. Go on, I’ll talk to you later.” “I’ll call you right when I leave the airport, promise…” Justin reluctantly hung up the phone. And muttered a curse. He bounced Brianna on his hip and mustered a believably smile. “Looks like we’re going out, baby.” Justin made a bottle of warmed apple juice and bundle Brianna up in her pink fleece jacket. Shrugging on a sweatshirt and sunglasses, Justin grabbed his keys to Kelly’s mini-van and climbed in. He said a swift prayer before pulling out of the driveway. ** Lance ran down the concrete halls of the training center clad in his black uniform. The director of the space tourism program had pulled him from his training and that made him incredibly nervous. All the man said was that he had an urgent phone call from the states. What could possibly be so important that it disturbed his training? Lance skidded to a halt, promptly wiping his sweaty hands on the thighs of his suit. He knocked in rapid succession on the office door and swayed from side to side as he waited for it to open. A thin woman opened the door and Lance greeted her impatiently in Russian. She smiled. “The phone is…over there,” she answered in broken english. He winked at her and ran to the phone. “Hello?” “Lance?” the connection was clear, but Lance squinted, trying to decipher the quiet voice on the other end. “Who is this?” “Chris.” Lance felt his knees weaken and blindly dropped into the seat behind him. He licked his lips, blinking as he prepared to ask the golden question. Chris’ voice was hoarse and somber and it took a whirlwind of hurt to deflate that man’s joy. Lance’s eyes rolled shut and his voice trembled, “what happened?” “Uh…I don’t know if I shouldn’t be telling you this, you know you blasting off to space and everything.” Chris stalled. “Chris. Something happened that made you call me in Russia, at what? Four thirty in the morning your time?” “Um, Justin was hurt.” “What do you mean he was hurt? Chris, did he sprain his ankle or break a finger?” “He was in an accident,” Chris whispered. “He was baby-sitting Brianna and there wasn’t any milk. He had a migraine or something, but he had to get the girl some milk. Someone found the car off the road…he, uh, hit a tree.” Lance sighed, closing his eyes in physical pain. Then it dawned on him. His eyes flared open and his lungs stumbled over a string of vital breaths making him incredibly dizzy. “Was Brianna in the car, Chris? Please tell me she wasn’t in the car!” he shouted, drawing attention of the bustling room. Chris paused. This was so much harder than he predicted. “I wish I could, Lance. She’s doing okay.” “Tell me the truth.” “I wouldn’t lie about that, Lance. Really. She’s with JC right now.” “What about Justin, can I talk to him?” “Um, he’s not awake yet, Lance. They’re fixing him up. But we know he’s going to be admitted for at least 24 hours because he has a concussion and the seatbelt pulled really tight and they want to make sure his belly is okay. That’s all I can really tell you right now.” Lance leaned forward, resting his head on the desk. “This isn’t happening…” he whispered brokenly. A few tears slipped down his cheeks, splashing in tiny puddles of despair and he closed his pale green eyes. “Chris, is he going to be okay? Tell me that?” he breathed. Chris sniffled into the phone. “I’m sure he will. I just wanted to let you know. Um, I don’t know if I can call you, give you some updates or anything. But I’ll try, okay?” “I should be there, Chris.” “NO! Lance, c’mon. Seriously. It’s not as bad as it could be. Justin…would want, you to stay put,” Chris struggled to keep his voice steady, but tears burned in the back of his throat. Lance checked his watch. “I’ll call you back in two hours, Chris. Gimme the number there.” Lance scrawled out the digits and other vital information before saying goodbye to Chris. He sat there, staring blankly out the window at the sky. He felt his body shutter, shoulders shaking. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, burying his head in the crook his arms. Lance shook dismally, a battle waging in his mind. After several minutes, Lance stood up and left the small office, feeling the concerned stares of the other workers as he wiped his conspicuously crimson eyes and puffy cheeks. Begrudgingly, he walked the halls of the center, composing himself the best he could and returned to work. ** Joey had always loved being a parent the past two years had been beyond belief for him. Fatherhood was the greatest thing in the world, he found himself thinking at the reception of his dear friend as he passed packets of pictures around to their friends. But Joey had never experienced the downsides of fatherhood. He recklessly and hopelessly loved that child and love that was that deep came with a price. He’d discovered that when Chris had called to tell him about the accident. And he’d thought his world had come to an end. He’d never felt such dread, such fear…such anger. He was going to kill Justin. It was already decided. As Kelly nestled up to his side on the plane ride home, Joey sat completely still, his hand rubbing her back, soothing. But inside, he was plotting ways to murder his little brother. He needed to find a way that was painful, but quick—after all, Joey loved the boy. But he had to die for putting his daughter in such peril. What court would actually find him guilty? Joey clutched Kelly’s hand as they rode in the cab. His arm snaked around her shoulders as they ascended to Justin’s floor in the elevator. But rage had permanently tattooed itself in the forefront of his brain. It was simple. He’d kiss his baby girl and then he’d murder Justin. As Kelly pried a sleeping Brianna out of JC’s arms and began crying, Chris led him to Justin’s room. He stared at the swollen, angered purple bruises covering Justin’s nose, the stitches that zigzagged across his forehead. The tubes snaking from his nose, wrists and chest. And he cried. He sat down beside his brother, picked up his hand and cried. Everyone gave him time to talk to him and Joey’s anger resolved as he carefully held his hand to his forehead, whispering a prayer. “Hey,” JC called quietly. “Hey.” “How’s he doing?” “The doctors say that he’s doing really well considering what the van looked like and the fact that the airbag deployed after, he hit the tree.” Joey sucked in a breath and covered his mouth. “Don’t…I don’t want to hear that right now, Jace…” “I’m sorry.” Joey’s deep brown eyes washed over his best friend, so still and pale and he worked diligently to gather up a simple thought. “His hand was really warm,” Joey murmured. “Does he have a fever?” “Yeah.” “I can’t believe he was driving with a migraine. I can’t believe I left the house without any milk,” Joey sobbed. “I just can’t believe this.” JC shifted uncomfortably. “You, uh, need some more time?” “Yeah.” JC rubbed his shoulder before moving towards the door. “Um, does Lance know?” He sniffled, wiping his eyes. “Someone should tell him.” “Chris called him earlier.” “Okay.” Joey stood up, nervously adjusting Justin’s blankets. “I won’t be long.” “Take your time.” ** Lance pried off his helmet, falling into the nearest seat. He smelled of exhaust and diesel fumes. His hands and face were smudged with black and he had spent the past ten minutes throwing up after a flying in a Russian aircraft that could pull negative Gs, something he would have to become accustomed to when in space. But something had changed in the past few days. Instead of the training being challenging, but rewarding. It was just work. He wanted to be back home. With his family, where he belonged. His trainer, Fyodor, handed him a bottle of water and told him in his stern, tight manner not to be discouraged. That everyone gets sick. Lance smiled shakily. “My friend is hurt,” he explained in Russian. “I was really concentrating today.” “We can speak english. I promise I won’t tell,” the lanky man smiled. “I don’t know. Knowing he’s in the hospital just changes everything.” “I imagine it would,” he agreed. “But this is your…dream, no?” “Of course it is, Fyodor…but…” “This friend is more important?” Lance nodded. “Yes.” Fyodor sighed and dropped his helmet. “You need to…think about it then. This is…opportunity comes by once. You must seize it and not turn back,” he explained. Lance rolled his shoulders and groaned. His bones ached. “Yes, I know.” He grabbed his helmet and stood up, thanking the man in Russian. ** Lance’s eyes flared open. A scream rattling his teeth. He sat up, panting and sweaty and freezing His head whipped across the room, trying to gain his bearings. After a tense moment of blinking and surveying the room, checking beneath the shadows, he stilled. Running his fingers through his damp hair, Lance rolled over. Grabbing the phone on the rickety table beside his bed and dialed a long cluster of numbers. After a ring, a raspy voice answered. “Jace?” “Lance?!” “Yes…is Justin okay?” he questioned anxiously. “Yeah,” Chris looked over at him and rubbed his arm. “He’s good. Still sleeping, but good.” “Oh god,” Lance breathed, closing his eyes, taking a moment to calm down. “You’re with him now?” Chris nodded. “Joey and Kelly took Brianna home and Jace took everyone else out to dinner, to just get their minds off everything,” he explained. Lance nodded. “I’m sorry,” he muttered disconcertingly, laying down, pulling the blankets up to his nose. Chris frowned. “Sorry for what?” “For not being there. I should be there.” “Lance, stop it. Please. I know you’re scared. I’m petrified, but you can’t do this to yourself. You have so much to worry about right now.” “I want to talk to him, Chris,” Lance angrily swiped tears off his cheeks. “Let me talk to him.” Chris stifled a laugh and wearily sat up. He regarded the young man with a soft smile. “Hey Curly, Lance wants to talk to you, okay.” He positioned the phone at Justin’s ear and leaned back, trying not to listen. He just studied Justin’s slack features and closed his eyes. Lance’s words must have been filled with sorrow and remorse and some profound meaning because Justin stirred, turning his head towards the voice. Chris grinned. “Keep talking to him, Lance…” Lance turned over, staring at the picture of his brothers pinned on the dismal gray wall and continued to talk, heedless of the tears that dribbled down his nose. Nearly an hour later, he smiled brightly. Still staring at the picture. The jubilant smiles. “Justin, I’m coming…” ** “You understand that if you leave, if you walk away, you will NOT be allowed to return.” Lance nodded, his face grim, his gaze was intense. His suitcases were packed, sitting outside the door. “I truly appreciate the experience and I’m sorry for wasting your time and money.” “This is what you want?” “Yes, sir.” “Then, good day. Best of wishes to your friend.” ** Twenty hours had passed. Sleep was stale, restless and filled of ghastly dreams. The sun rose and set while Lance rode on a packed airplane for countless hours. By the time he reached the hospital, he was ragged. Drained of both energy and spirit. His feet dragged against the freshly mopped tiles and his bloodshot eyes were covered with dark lenses. He leaned against the wall of Justin’s room and smiled gratefully. Joey was sitting next to Justin’s bed. A rocking chair and a small crib had been moved into the small space. Brianna was wrapped in her favorite blanket, fighting sleep as her father rocked sluggishly. His fingered caressing her back in tender circles. Her eyes drooped, alabaster lids covering exquisite blue eyes. Lance knocked quietly on the door, hoping he didn’t wake up his godchild. Taking a tentative step into the room, he saw that Lynn, Britney, JC and Chris were all resting in chairs around Justin’s bed. Their eyes all widened with short-lived shock and joy as Lance dropped his bags on the wall beside the door. “Hey.” “What are you doing here?!” Joey seethed, through clenched teeth. Lance glanced downward in shame. “Lance, you’re supposed to be in Russia.” “No, I’m supposed to be here.” “Lance…” Lynn gasp, shaking her head. “Baby, come here.” She embraced him warmly, rubbing his back. “When do you go back?” she asked. “I don’t,” he laughed. “Someone else got my place.” He explained as he hugged Britney. “You gave it up?” “Of course,” he shrugged. “I couldn’t be there when he was in here.” He gasped at the sight of Justin and fought not to cry. “How’s he doing?” “Better. He just had exploratory surgery because of the fever and seatbelt burn they were worried about bleeding into his abdomen,” Lynn began. “But they didn’t find any. He doesn’t have any broken…bones. He broke his nose, but that should heal quickly. Just cuts and bruises…” “Good.” “You all look wiped, go home.” Joey chuckled, handing him Brianna. “You don’t look so hot yourself.” “I’m fine. Go on, get out,” he kissed Brianna, his free hand picking up her slack arms, checking over for bruises. “You’re like the nineteenth person that did that,” JC smiled. “She’s fine.” “Good. I’ll see y’all in a couple hours?” “Sure.” Lance took a seat beside Justin and rubbed his arm. “I’m home, Justin.” ** It was dark. Blissfully dark, but somewhere beneath the torrents of purplish black, there was a sharp-edged fear. Terror. He could feel it at the core of him. Gentle, familiar voices cradled him and he was at peace because they were whispered soothingly. But he could feel the pain laced beneath them. If he knew one thing, he knew voices. He could dissect them and pull out each emotion like a petal off a rose. But he was scared to face whatever was fueling the black emotions. He chose to ignore them because he couldn’t hurt here. He was safe from the blinding devastation and twisted steel. He was protected from the fiery glare of headlights and angered horns. “Justin. I’m here.” The deep, buttery voice echoed in the dark abyss and Justin felt joy. The one voice that was missing. It was cool and calm, but intertwined with urgency that was identical to the others. But he had to be brave. He savored one last moment of his warm, ethereal sanctuary before trying to escape. He hadn’t tried since he heard a child’s wail coming from behind him. He had fought to get to her because it was his fault she was screaming. It was his fault that glass was broken and dreams were shattered, so he didn’t want to fight anymore. “Justin? I’m holding your hand now. I’m here.” Until now. Suddenly, he felt someone embracing his hand. The person’s palm was cool and clammy and he gripped his fingers as if they were delicate glass and would crumble. He wanted to squeeze back, but everything was heavy. Now, it was pure white. It glared and burned and seared. “I’m just going to talk okay? I’m tired, but I don’t want to sleep.” Justin cringed at the brightness of the light. His body tensed and he felt the fire that centered in his belly and pounded in his face. “Riding in that plane was the scariest thing in my life, Justin. But I loved every minute of it. Until I passed out. I felt it in my BONES, Justin. Honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much adrenaline surge through me. And the cockpit was glass, so I could see the sun. And the clouds. It was beautiful.” Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. It rattled inside his head. It hurt. He tried to move away, but the light only got stronger. “I can’t even put it into words, man. I just…I just wish I could, because it’s an amazing feeling. I was up there, looking down on the world and it was heaven—Justin?! Can you hear me?” “…mmm…” “Justin? You need me to get you something? You want your mother? I can call her. Open your eyes if you want mother…” He could think now. Mentally, he laughed. Bribery. He ought to be shot. Justin eyes fluttered, then quickly closed. “…mmm…” “Hold on….shit. Hold on. Stay with me,” Justin jerked at the loud sliding sound and groaned. He could feel everything. Every fiber of pain in his body. Tears slipped through closed eyes and as he fought to open them. “Wait, one second. There’s one more shade for me to close.” “…what…” His lips were moving, but only weak gasps escaped his lips. He opened his eyes and peered gratefully into Lance’s face. Justin frowned. Something wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Justin dismally moved his right arm upwards. “…am…I in…Rus…sia?” Lance chuckled deeply. “No, man, you’re not.” “…I hurt…” “I’m sure you do. Do you remember what happened?” Lance whispered as he wiped the tears out of Justin’s eyes. “…um…not really…” Lance slid some ice chips in his mouth and Justin sucked on them furiously. “You were in an accident…about four days ago.” “…Bri..an..a…shit, where is she? Lance…where is she?” Justin panicked, remembering the child’s wail. His eyes flicked insanely around the room and he shifted sharply, ignoring the pain. Lance carefully held down his shoulders, shaking his head. “Shh…Justin. Stop moving…shh…” “…god, Lance, she was…in the…car…” he panted. “I know. She’s fine. Perfectly fine.” Justin shook his head. “She…was…scre..aming…” “She’s fine.” His right arm trembled and he closed his eyes. “Joey’s…gonna kill me…” “He’s just glad you’re okay.” Justin felt himself getting overwhelmingly tired. He closed his eyes and grabbed for Lance’s hand, hoping he would have a way back this time. A lifeline. “You’re not going to space?” “Nah.” “You…didn’t have to come…” “Yes, I did.” “I wouldn’t have…been…mad…” “I know. Shh, go to sleep, Justin…” Justin opened his eyes, a tear escaping. “…thank…you,” he breathed hoarsely before succumbing to slumber. © Copyrighted by Kira, May 2002. [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |
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| Re: *New Short Story* Closer to Angels! Feedback please! | Gina Z. | 15:39:46 05/09/02 Thu |
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| Re: *New Short Story* Closer to Angels! Feedback please! | Sunny | 16:01:58 05/09/02 Thu |
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