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Fighting and Fountains

“Don’t, Josh.” She sat back on the bench, allowing her shoulders to slump and her head to flop back. The torn strap of her dress flapped lightly as she moved.

“What? Don’t what?! I should go in there and knock that bastard out!” He was on his feet now, gripping the railings with whitened knuckles. “He’s a piece of work, ( Read more... )