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Raised by Wolves

Gaki: writing myself Real

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Glass everywhere

The tall shadow shifts, and the only forewarning they have is the sudden hint of shifting light. Like a dying timber, Kris lists forward and through the glass coffee table immediately in front of him, landing with a loud crash in a boneless heap, face first onto the floor.  A rag flutters to the earth like some broken butterfly.  There is a chorus of gasps, one high-pitched micro-shriek, and a rumbling good-natured laugh.

“Oh shit.”

“Is he okay?”

“Be fucking careful - careful, there’s glass everywhere.”

“Somebody put that can of Black Jack away for now.”  

A tiny shadow detached itself from the arm of a dilapidated couch and curled up next to the fallen one.  “Kris?  Kris, are you in there?  Are you here?”