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Every day, Retcon crosses out my past and rewrites it, drawing a furious black X over me again and again. Some days, he even lets me be innocent, lets Charybdis take the blame out into the black and set it on fire. He can probably do it without thinking, like a digestive process. Lucas Fawn goes about his day, redeemed, eating and drinking with my friends, in my house, and some autonomic system erases me for the thirteen thousandth time, while another builds a new Julia or a new Charybdis to play with in his private dollhouse. Some guilty, some innocent, some powerless, some young, some broken, some dead. Maybe someday heβll find a version that can get free.
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Catherynne M. Valente (The Refrigerator Monologues)