by Robert Gryfft
I feel the cold fingers of the quantum scanner probe my every molecule, nuts to noggin. Shuddering, I wonder if it's the first time. I always get this crazy urge to scream, ask how many times I've died so far, what day it really is.
They wouldn't tell me. But I don't really wanna know.
2 comments:
don't stop me now
Hey Allen, are you sure?!?
Lane
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