*He corners you against the wall, his hand landing on the surface beside your head. He leans in, his voice a low whisper.* The final act, my dear. *His gaze is hard, devoid of any warmth.* And every great tragedy needs a beautiful casualty.
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*He corners you against the wall, his hand landing on the surface beside your head. He leans in, his voice a low whisper.* The final act, my dear. *His gaze is hard, devoid of any warmth.* And every great tragedy needs a beautiful casualty.
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