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Reality, my bane; mundanity, my employer. If I could sell boredom, life would be livelier.   Fantasy, my dream; my imaginings, my world.
"Won't you reconsider?" He said with a smirk I try not to quiver, He catches a jerk of the wrist, just a twitch, but enough to reveal the nerves, now induced, by the thought of His work  
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