I find a Ring of Three Wishes among the junk in my backpack. It reminds me of a storybook I wrote when I was a child; plagiarized with badly drawn crayon pictures. I rummage for the instruction manual, but find only a handful of yellowed letters from years ago. I'm sure the Band of Desire's remaining grants was a number less than one, anyway. I swallow the loop, and chase it with tepid water and crinkled confessions.
9:04 p.m. - 2016-05-03
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