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When The Clouds Don't Match The Grief

His footfalls echoed in the mostly empty halls, and a smug twisted smile twisted his lips. Just as always, he did this and nobody did anything to him. An illusion of power screamed through his veins and his shoulders snapped even straighter. He turned a corner and moved with the pride of a man who thought he owned the entire world and when he reached the double doors, he shouldered it open and stepped into the brightness of the patio, vibrant with colors from hundreds of varieties of flowers.

Ahhh. He grunted as he drank them all in, his nose flaring in pleasure.

Then his eyes fell on the mass of black clothed people by the gates. They were waiting for him and goddess, did Reginald take his dear time in preparing. His hair was slicked back from his face with globs upon globs of gel that could glue wallpapers on fresh walls. Skin shone and dazzled under the sun and a devil-may care grin made his lips tilt up on one end. But as he crossed the lawn to the gates he slowly replaced his gri
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