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She was hollow as October. Like those rows of distorted pumpkins slouching on porches, never looked closely enough to notice their empty sadness. She was as restless as November. Like a caged bird, wings fluttering frantically on the edges of home. She was as hopeful as December. Like a fresh promise on the tip of her tongue.
Sarah. 18. L.A.

velveteen-queen:

gulping:

Rubeus Hagrid

this is the best 
mumtazi:

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