Twelve
Not a cloud in the sky, sun shining, birds singing and a thousand other clichés.
Oh the fucking irony.
It's supposed to be raining. The sky should be grey. I should be freezing as a harsh wind straight from a Dickens novel blows dead leaves around my feet.
But apparently the powers that be didn't get the memo. There's no pathetic fallacy
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I'm glad you liked it, anyway. :)
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