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Braxton stopped moving when the lights appeared, seeing the walls shift and really not looking happy. It wasn’t funny, whatever all of this was it was a fucking joke, and no one was laughing. Clenching his hands into fists, Braxton was slightly nervous, not wanting what happened earlier to repeat, although at the same time he wanted to show he wasn’t giving up. What happened didn’t weaken him.
“What the fuck now?” Braxton cursed.
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"Why is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands?"
~Ernest Gaines
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