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... umping back into her chair. That was too close.
She pulled her notebook out from under the larger tome, flipping it open to where she had left off. Ink still glistened slightly on the last sentence she had written, the scrawled words trailing off mid-thought.
She had been documenting everything. Everything she remembered, everything that was supposed to happen. But with each passing day, her memories of the novel felt less like something she had read and more like something she h ...
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