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Rufullo’s purple eyeshadow was heavy, the corners of her black lips curled up, her smile particularly unsettling.
"What are you?"
"Can’t you see, I am you!"
"Sorry, I didn’t see that."
Philomena mourned in silence for a few seconds, polite yet disdainful; Rufullo was old and ugly, her makeup aesthetics a mess, certainly not her.
In a flash of crimson from Rufullo’s eyes, devoid of any attempt to hide malice, her hand hidden beneath her robe quickly ...
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