 The Disappearing Girl | | Swooping Bowtruckle
Lame. Lame, lame, lame.
He was. School was. Everything was. Whatever.
Placing his hands on a windowsill, Rhydin stared out across the grounds. It was cold outside and snowy. Perfect. It was even overcast outside. It's basically the perfect weather for him. He was severely debating on going outside, because he had nothing better to do. Or did he?
Nah, he didn't.
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