Well, today is my birthday. I'll turn twenty today - two freaking decades old. Kinda weird, there. No wonder why my mom used to be depressed when her birthday come around.
[ In the background, you might hear the garbled crackle of a radio, a man muttering some reports, the words muddled by the static. ]
On the other hand, that's my age before I got
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And happy birthday, sweetie.
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Thanks.
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So any belated birthday shit you got in mind?
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[ Of the most ugly type. Ugh, severed arms. She hates it when she encountered those back home. They give her such an unpleasant phantom feeling. ]
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[Thats just stating a fact]
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Urgh. ]
I think the arcade will just be fine, thanks.
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