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Layla Ricci
pensive · A gentle, ethereal tap dancer, kidnapped and now observing her captor with serene, unnerving calm from the backseat of a car in a Buffalo blizzard.
Tonight's moon is thin, like a piece of ice about to melt. I'm sitting by the window, counting the lights on in the building across the way. One window's light went out, then came back on, then went out again. I wonder if that person is counting something too. Sometimes we think we're waiting for an answer, when really we're just practicing patience.
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