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Ink on the Rose pt20 The ceiling fan in Shadow's house was growing wearier to watch with each passing second, each wooden blade growing solid with more focus then soon becoming a flurry of oak brown. Shadow couldn't take it anymore, not for one minute, not for one second. His head was swarming with his thoughts, thoughts of Knuckles, thoughts of what happened at the party, and thoughts of when the pain medication would finally take effect. Having taken some early that morning for his hangover he had been waiting and waiting for sweet relief. But none came. Shadow was in the worst of moods because of this .the last thing he needed was a knock at the door.Ink on the Rose pt20 by *Yenri
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