Return-path: Envelope-to: lojban@lojban.org Delivery-date: Wed, 17 Nov 2021 07:04:03 -0800 Received: from mail.highhopes2.shop ([104.166.124.5]:35176) by 35cf414ce18a with esmtp (Exim 4.94.2) (envelope-from ) id 1mnMTZ-000ShM-Kh for lojban@lojban.org; Wed, 17 Nov 2021 07:04:02 -0800 DKIM-Signature: v=1; a=rsa-sha1; c=relaxed/relaxed; s=dkim; d=highhopes2.shop; h=Date:From:To:Subject:MIME-Version:Content-Type:List-Unsubscribe:Message-ID; i=sonya-drake@highhopes2.shop; bh=3w77LCcC0yrH+7LtRz7YYYtkoRc=; b=GfdY1SdPQs2t0vf9Hn7i8nF67TktX6WxQvg6iHSpYTEKCS2n2K5/4/bPlgTvCNQtk4dtuYDZFrEB jM+UBFRXSvu7LLSkmJAN05nTWuUKAD1/idqdv2E7zomwlz1KVVsGTJE0z1AfnngrG7E6KFnsuRt2 xyrVYd568SMz7Yc24yg= DomainKey-Signature: a=rsa-sha1; c=nofws; q=dns; s=dkim; d=highhopes2.shop; b=zvk9H7FsYw/Nmhksa5yIr2+vrj6jLgyko7RcudFzThNRQIrMDjCQbIx+qrfk3w5yGwMxIzKrR2a2 OSYlisuPuLavZo1INIQBwiMMGDc7N5UnjadFOCwaGl3kswvNhJcnXTtQG+ZyYLhD/aZF2OUx4pZB 31hGZPTRbbeIEri3Bko=; Received: by mail.highhopes2.shop id hikdeg0001gl for ; Wed, 17 Nov 2021 09:58:17 -0500 (envelope-from ) Date: Wed, 17 Nov 2021 09:58:17 -0500 From: "Sonya Drake" To: Subject: Black Friday Starts Today: Enjoy Warm Heat Without Touching The Thermostat, Introducing All New HotStreak Wall Plugin MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: multipart/alternative; boundary="----=_Part_346_1206440999.1637160803229" List-Unsubscribe: Message-ID: <0.0.0.39.1D7DBC38DFA0220.ABE7D8@mail.highhopes2.shop> X-Spam-Score: 3.5 (+++) X-Spam_score: 3.5 X-Spam_score_int: 35 X-Spam_bar: +++ X-Spam-Report: Spam detection software, running on the system "64c8850d9174", has NOT identified this incoming email as spam. The original message has been attached to this so you can view it or label similar future email. If you have any questions, see @@CONTACT_ADDRESS@@ for details. Content preview: ** Free Shipping On All Orders! ** ~ Heat Your Office Without Heating the Whole House ~ Is it an apartment, an office, or a studio space? The HotStreak Heater is there for you. Install it almost anywhere, choose your temperature, and if the room drops below that, the heater will automati [...] Content analysis details: (3.5 points, 5.0 required) pts rule name description ---- ---------------------- -------------------------------------------------- 0.2 BAYES_999 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 99.9 to 100% [score: 1.0000] 3.5 BAYES_99 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 99 to 100% [score: 1.0000] 0.0 URIBL_BLOCKED ADMINISTRATOR NOTICE: The query to URIBL was blocked. See http://wiki.apache.org/spamassassin/DnsBlocklists#dnsbl-block for more information. [URIs: highhopes2.shop] -0.0 SPF_PASS SPF: sender matches SPF record 0.0 SPF_HELO_NONE SPF: HELO does not publish an SPF Record 0.0 HTML_MESSAGE BODY: HTML included in message 0.0 HTML_FONT_LOW_CONTRAST BODY: HTML font color similar or identical to background 0.0 MIME_QP_LONG_LINE RAW: Quoted-printable line longer than 76 chars -0.1 DKIM_VALID Message has at least one valid DKIM or DK signature -0.1 DKIM_VALID_AU Message has a valid DKIM or DK signature from author's domain -0.1 DKIM_VALID_EF Message has a valid DKIM or DK signature from envelope-from domain 0.1 DKIM_SIGNED Message has a DKIM or DK signature, not necessarily valid 0.0 T_REMOTE_IMAGE Message contains an external image ------=_Part_346_1206440999.1637160803229 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=utf-8 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit ** Free Shipping On All Orders! ** ~ Heat Your Office Without Heating the Whole House ~ Is it an apartment, an office, or a studio space? The HotStreak Heater is there for you. Install it almost anywhere, choose your temperature, and if the room drops below that, the heater will automatically start providing a continual flow of warm air. It also includes a 12-hour timer, so you can set it and get back to doing what you love. The mini heater can warm up individual rooms, like offices, bathrooms, bedrooms, and mudrooms. If you're tired of your electric bill skyrocketing, you should try wasting less energy with this economic-focused wall plugin heater. Buy Now Up To 70% Off! --> http://www.highhopes2.shop/reassessment-melts/4a46LA23r95D86jA12gvV6c7ewb2fV18FhscFDrfhscFDrEsvZ7yQqoeen5Qt10P6WlBPsv 209 West Leslie Lane, Columbia, MO 65202. Digital Traffic Group (Applied Sciences). Click here to stop receiving messages. http://www.highhopes2.shop/31d4S2395Ey8B610H6c7fNb2fO18ShscFDrfhscFDrEsvZ7pQqoeen5B10kZ6dJsv3l/ignore-paragraph ------=_Part_346_1206440999.1637160803229 Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable = =20 =20 =20 =20 =20 =20 =20 =20 =20 =20 =20 =20
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Read More
 
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DigiTech Broadcast Federation
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125 Sheridan Street
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Newcastle WY 82701 3001
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The world was silent. Not in the absen= ce of sound, but within the true silence that exists in the beauty of natur= e. A low hum of consistent static rolled through the streets, ebbing and fl= owing with the breeze. Passing through alleys and swelling over dusty park = benches, ancient pages rose and fell. Swaths of dust swirled, carrying with= them the quiet of simplicity. Leaves rustled and birds chirped, echoing me= lodies from eons past warped through the refrains of new generations.

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The ecosystem lived in a harmonious ba= lance. Nothing disturbed the eternal crescendo of endless lives, born from = the hushed fall of humans?much like the cycle of water?returning to Yren fr= om their time in the skies. Even the muted screams of haunted avenues, care= fully parked vehicles that dotted the causeways?their flight stolen away by= time and disuse?and great monuments forged from steel and glass like ruste= d staccatos stretching into the blue oblivion above, hummed in time with th= e world that surrounded them.

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This great score, blending the faded, = discordant rhythms of the past with the slow, swelling tempo of the new wor= ld, found within itself an anomaly. Despite the smooth passage of the curre= nts of time, a single reed, bent near to breaking split the waters. This no= te was not harsh, nor did it grate. This wandering tone, ancient in its own= right, swayed with the flow, allowing the waters to glide past, remaining = barely perceived as it drifted along. This wanderer rarely stopped, except = to listen.

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In what had once been a bustling city = erupting with energy, waves of electric power skipping from one rooftop to = another, the wanderer stopped. They set their hat to the ground, sitting wi= th eyes closed and palms to the crumpled concrete and opened their soul. It= sang. It sang with the quiet confidence of age: long, bowed rhythms that s= pilled from a cello. It was a simple baseline, mellow and serene; each note= melded comfortably into the next. The soul, laid bare, teased its beautifu= l tone, pleading with the sounds and rhythms without to listen and reciproc= ate. It played and waited, searching the annals of history engrained in the= tapestry of notes.

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The wanderer foraged through the melod= ies, picking them apart as they reacted to the wanderer?s soul: a swift leg= ato played as the wind blew past, tiny trills with each twirling of a leaf.= They plead with the long wholes of buildings swaying, while empty rests cr= eated gaps between each ant as it worked, carrying food back to their dens.= They delved into the vast networks of arpeggios accenting tiny paws crawli= ng their way through tunnels. In all of these, there was nothing. No sign o= f those the wanderer had once left. Those who had existed eons ago.<= /p>=20

 

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Those melodies had been long forgotten= by time. The swift, familial rhythm of home had finally vanished. And= so, the wanderer sat, soul bare to the music of the world, craving a memor= y.

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None came.

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With head bowed, a sigh escaped their = lips: a singular sound. It rang out, echoing in the hollow of their chest, = defeated. All memories had finally fled the minds of even the ancient citie= s, having decomposed into something entirely different and foreign.<= /p>=20

 

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Still, their soul remained open, strai= ning against the emptiness of the world around them, barely capable of sing= ing. Even in its exhaustion, however it hummed the rhythms, pressing outwar= d.

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As the song concluded, the wanderer be= gan to slump, a tiny tear rolling from their cheek, landing with the weight= of a timpani onto the pavement below. A splotch, dark against the sun-blea= ched stone lay quietly, the sound of its impact spreading outward in a wave=

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The roots were the first to respond. T= he slow creep of the trees returned the sound, passing it from one end to t= he other, snaking over and under the concrete and between foundations of bu= ildings. They mimicked its tone, reverberating in the wanderer?s soul. They= stiffened, straightening their posture. The trees had passed the new inclu= sion to the monuments of steel and they rang, the repressed screams quietin= g entirely as they played a new song.

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The wind whispered it to the birds, wh= o soared overhead, echoing the mournful note, introducing it to their songs= and chirping it to any creature that might hear. The wanderer, however, sh= ook their head. It was not the melody of a people long forgotten. Still, it= beckoned with outstretched tendrils, a fermata waiting for direction from = the conductor.

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From within, a faint memory. A time wh= ere the full orchestra of the wanderer?s people washed over and drowned out= the subtle harmonies. The harmonies of nature that swept to and fro, searc= hing for a home, twisting and flitting with no place to rest. The orchestra= had slowly grown tired with age. New musicians or instruments had not grac= ed the stage in centuries. Each plucked string and blared horn sagged and s= lowed, burdened by the endless repeats of notes slowly wandering off key.

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They?d heard the widening divide and w= ith time, they had turned their sights on the remains of the once distant r= hythms.

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The wanderer wept, recalling the instr= uments closest to them vanishing one by one, joining the soft harmonies of = nature. Their sounds hadn?t vanished, no, but instead transformed. They sti= ll sung the same song, but had changed instruments to match the trees, the = grasses, the squirrels, or the birds. Even the small band that had once rov= ed with the wanderer eventually left.

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The wanderer listened, not to the memo= ry of ancient songs, but to the reply. They called, summoning them silently= through notes held on long tenutos. They had resisted thus far, stubbornly= holding the single tone defiant in the endless stream. Perhaps, however, i= t was time. The tired sound of a solitary, archaic violin yearned to rejoin= the score, to play music once again. The time, like the conductor?s baton,= had finally arrived. It was time to return and become a fresh part of the = great whole.

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And so, in a field, not far from a onc= e great city, a body came to rest. The physical object of it lying, a new m= elody taking it over as the song, that single, weathered note, rushed in an= d joined the sturdy harmonies of a tree. No longer forever locked into a si= ngle beat, but endlessly growing, swelling, and changing. 

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Everything was ready for the ritual.

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I had drawn the star to the best of my= ability, placing the candles at the points. All I could afford were those = pillar candles with Jesus Christ on the front, but oh well. Being squeamish= of blood, I couldn?t do the animal?s blood part, so I did the best wine I = could get my hands on with my latest paycheck. Maybe it will like wine more= ?

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Taking a deep, steadying breath, I nea= rly choked on the cloying scent of the strong incense and herbs I had burni= ng in a bowl on my end table. My last resort at even a sliver of happiness = was in the form of the two sheets of printed paper, the first one showing t= he process of summoning a demon and the second one having the symbol hand-d= rawn on it of the one I?m trying to summon. Supposedly, if it is successful= , the demon must give you one thing you desire in return for your soul. I p= lanned to bargain anything I could.

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I picked up the paper with shaky hands= The summoning spell hadn?t been too specific on verbiage, so I had done m= y best to create my own based off of others that I had found, though I shie= d away from some of the more blasphemous terms. Despite what I was about to= do, I am still Jewish and hold my beliefs close to my heart.

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Holding the paper with the symbol on i= t in my left hand, I hold it over the candle closest to me while chanting s= oftly, ?Oh Lord, by your great and fearful presence, I pray that You grant = me the strength and courage to perform that which I desire most and summon = one of your loyal vassals to my aide, so I may attain Your and their help f= or my own gain. Please, O Mighty Lord, the one True God who cast man out of= the Garden of Eden, allow your vassal whose name is burning in your flame = to appear before me. May your vassal help me out of loyalty to You so I may= fulfill my deepest desires, given it is proper for one of such divine rank= to grant. This I humbly request ask in Your Name. May you deem me worthy, = Father.?

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At the end of the chant, the last bit = of paper went up in a smoke, singing my fingers. Yelping in pain, I yanked = my hand back and sucked on my finger, wishing I had thought to bring an ice= cube in before the ritual. I knew better than to do anything dangerous wit= hout precautions - that was why I was doing this to begin with, after all.<= /span>

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I stared into the middle of my hand-dr= awn star on the floor, wondering if I had failed at even this. The ritual o= nline said it was easy to make this, so even I - with all the worst luck im= aginable - should be able to do this.

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Looking back and forth at the design o= f the star on the paper and what I had drawn, my head spun as I felt like s= omeone had kicked the air out of me. ?Ah? I?m so stupid?? I murmured to mys= elf, tears welling up in my eyes.

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I drew the Star of David, not a pentag= ram.

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My legs gave out under me. I collapsed= just as the tears flowed down my cheeks, splashing onto the candle and mak= ing it sizzle and pop.

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I had failed at everything in life, ev= en this. From learning how to drive and getting into a wreck that killed my= older brother, to landing my first job where my first blunder landed mysel= f and a coworker in a hospital with a medical bill I am still struggling to= pay off and the guilt of watching them on life support, and so much more, = this failure just seemed like a mockery of all my efforts.

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Not even the devil wanted to get near = this embodiment of bad luck.

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I pressed my palms against my eyes, wi= lling myself to stop crying, but it was as though a switch had been flipped= Sobs wracked my body, loud and unfiltered. I blocked out the sight of the= candles, incense, bowl of wine, and most importantly, the failed drawing o= f the star on the floor.

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?Little one, why do you cry??=20

A soft, melodious murmur too beautiful= to be called a voice found its way to me despite how loudly I was crying. = Startled, I jerked my head up and stared at the androgynous person standing= in the middle of my hexagram. Based off of the flat chest, I assumed this = person was male. His exquisite reddish hair practically glowed in the candl= elight, making it look like it is made out of copper. His facial features a= re smooth with no abnormalities, giving him an ethereal beauty that transce= nded any depiction I had ever seen of? well, anything.

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He held out his hand to me, easily byp= assing the edge of the circle. A scream caught in my throat; my blunder mig= ht just cause my death this time. If I actually summoned a demon and it can= move freely about, what would stop it from just killing me for fun?=

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?Come now, tell me your worries, littl= e one. You requested the Almighty Father to send me, did you not??=20

?Al? mighty?? I breathed, my eyes as w= ide as saucers. I didn?t even want to call his eyes such an unsightly term.= They seemed to be more like the sun itself shining down on me and gracing = me with their attentive gaze.

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He swept an arm over the room like the= beginning of a rapturing dance. ?Yes. You are one of the few with enough c= onviction and belief that our Almighty Father deemed you worthy of your req= uest. You are humble and kind, always stand up again and again through your= trials and tribulations, and more than anything else, do not ask for much.= So, child. What do you request of me??

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?I? I?? Tears welled up in my eyes aga= in. ?I wish to no longer have this bad luck. So many terrible things have h= appened to my friends and family because of it. I don?t want anyone around = me so I don?t hurt them, too. M-my brother, my parents, my best friend? the= y have all suffered from it. I don?t want to hurt anyone else??

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I buried my face in my hands. I couldn= ?t bear to screw up another person?s life again.

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Shhhk. Startled by the s= ound, I looked up to see the summoning ritual paper in his hand. His brow w= rinkles in confusion, but it didn?t mar his beauty in the slightest. ?You a= ttempted to summon a demon with this type of ritual??

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?Y-yes?? I responded, uncertain. ?If y= ou?re not a demon, then? what are you??

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?I am Archangel Michael. You requested= Our Lord to send me specifically.?

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My eyes widened. ?A-an angel? I screwe= d up the ritual and summoned an angel??

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?Archangel, yes.? He set down the shee= t of paper and turned to face me. Kneeling down, his eyes level with mine, = he murmured softly, ?You poor child. You seem to be living your life at the= crossroads, watching as everyone else passes through their trials - yet th= at in itself is your trial. It has taken such a toll on you. Your desire st= ems from compassion and selflessness, which in turn will help your own stat= e of being. That is truly a remarkable trait in a human. Most would just re= quest for something selfish.?

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?It? it hurts to see when others suffe= r for my own misfortune. I just want it to end??

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?Hush now. It is all over; you do not = have to stand at the crossroads of others any longer. Your own trials need = not involve those around you from this point on.?

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At that, my head spun as I sucked in o= ne deep breath after another. I hadn?t even realized I couldn?t breath. Loo= king up at him with a clearer gaze, I asked hesitantly, ?What? do you want = in return??

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?The Lord does not give in order to ta= ke; He gives in good faith that his children will follow Him and His guidan= ce.? The angel rests a hand on my head, and I felt the chill leaving my bod= y as a gentle, warm light encompasses me. ?I bid you farewell, little one, = and hope the next time I see you is among those you so fervently wish to pr= otect.?

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My vision goes black. For a moment, I = thought I had passed out, but then realize that all the candles went out in= stead. My phone, which I forgot to leave outside my room, started to buzz.<= /span>

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Fumbling on my end table, I stare at t= he screen.

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Felicia: Hey!! Long time no c= hat. Wanna hang out?? I haven?t seen you in aaaaagesssss

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I bit my lip, hesitating. The archange= l?s words rock through my mind. ?I don?t have to be afraid,? I mumble to my= self, calling my friend back.

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?Hey! Wasn?t expecting such a quick re= sponse!? Felicia?s chipper voice bubbled over the line.

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?Y-yeah,? I stuttered, a trembling smi= le working its way across my face. ?I like the sounds of hanging out. I?m a= vailable today if you are.?

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?Awesome! How?s coffee sound? I?ll car= ry it to the table since I know you?re such a klutz.?

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?Ahaha, okay. Umm, Starbucks sound goo= d? How about in 30??

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?Oooh, look at who?s taking the lead o= n being social! All right, you?re on. I think I like this sud= den change!?

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?I? had some time to think,? I said, m= y smile coming more easily this time. ?As well as some encouraging words.?<= /span>

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?That?s good to hear. Let?s talk more = over coffee!?

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?Okay!? Click. I took a = deep breath. ?Here goes nothing??

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After a quick shower, I walked the ten= minutes to the one cl= osest tonews-medical.n= etthe only one I ever go to if I dare to leave my apartment. Shortly after = I got there, I saw Felicia in her designer clothes saunter through the door= I waved her over.

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?What?s this? You already ordered?? Felicia asked, staring at the coffees in front of me. ?How many did = you spill??

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?None of them,? I admitted, a little self-conscious.<= /p>=20

Her eyes widened. ?Y?know, before I met you, I didn?t believe in bad luck. Now you?re telling me it was= cured overnight??

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?I don?t know,? I admitted, my fingers curling around my warm cup. ?I?ll take th= is little blessing, though.?

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My whole body was still warm from whatever Archangel Michae= l did before he disappear= ed, but right then, the warmth from my unspilled cup rivaled that. I finally felt like I cou= ld do something with = my life, and I was ready to see what I was capable of.

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