There's a mystery lingering in the air, but I won't ask him for the story. This isn't my curtain to draw back, this isn't my play to direct. So I'll let them lie, let them hide behind that screen. For now, they could probably use the rest. Goodness only knows what's in store for them when the flock returns. Birds of a feather stick together, and maybe that's why we've all been shifting slowly apart, quaking like tectonic plates.
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