it will only open for you at twelve nineteen am
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You can smell the wet earth, as if it has rained.
For a moment, you wish you had never come here.

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Stalemated their armies stood, with tottering banners:
She flung from a room
Still ringing with bruit of insults and dishonors

And in fury left him
Glowering at the coal-fire: ‘Come find me’—her last taunt.