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Brutal May Bogtrotter
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Brutal May BogtrotterA Short Storyby AnonymousMay Bogtrotter looked at the spotty rock in her hands and felt sleepy. She walked over to the window and reflected on her wild surroundings. She had always loved crowded Chicago with its kaleidoscopic, knobbly kettles. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel sleepy. Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of James Thornhill. James was a loving carer with sloppy feet and brunette fingers.
