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CHICKEN
Were we drivin' swerving round a corner skidding with wheels locked to the left for all the good it was doing? Were we screaming together in the face of falling death, Senestra flailing the steering wheel in the other direction in a desperate attempt to correct our fall. However futile the gesture may have been, I will always love her for trying. We accordioned into a crushed heap of flaking metallic paint chips and shattered webbed glass, embraced in a slammed enrapture which the windshield could not capture. Catapulted through our bodies thrown clear of the disaster.
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