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Prose

Butterfly’s Kiss

I held it together until the last person passed through. They swirled around me like ripples on a lake; restricting my ability to focus my eyes. They were overwhelmed by the extravagance of the city lights, and I don’t blame them. The city seems new…

Prose

An Insubstantial Torment

“But his eyes are too small, his nose doesn’t look sharp and look at his beard!”, she bleated as she looked at a photograph her mother had shown her that morning. Laiba was a twenty-one year old, pink, sharp-featured girl. She was brought up by…