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silver can is flung through the air once more, but this time nobody
turns to you.
You try to say that you are going home, but the word feels odd on
your tongue, no longer familiar, but foreign, wrong. You scramble
backwards until your back meets cold stone. A sudden desire to
escape engulfs you, but there’s nowhere to go. You sit and watch,
frozen, because, after all, there are worse games to play.
‘
Worse Games
To Play
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