Dream Weaver Derangement, or Weft, Warp, Warped
It was a touristy day in the bucolic burg of Here. Tourists tend to come here in clusters, usually on long weekends or school breaks, and this was one of those. I’m not sure which, because every day is a weekend to me, and I’m, thankfully, not in school. I’d have a hard time at my age having to sit in a desk or around a table and have a so-called professor professing to me. Anyway…
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