It has been 発言しました that those with no words often have the most to say.
New York City, circa 1992.
He was quiet, a secret sort of troubled, his hands buried deep into his pockets as he wandered the slums of a black city, a heavy shadow cast over the sky that was too dark for the stars to penetrate.
She was a bloodnut and she watched him from the shadows, her dead ハート, 心 rattling inside of her empty chest. She launched herself at him and latched onto his arm like a leech, beginning to beg, offering services in exchange for the substance she craved so much. Just a taste, she said, she promised that...
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