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“Why so down?” The Enoch bartender looked concerned for me.
“Love,” I spoke lowly.
“She broke your heart?” He asked.
“No, I broke hers.” I answered honestly.
“What’s her name?” He leaned over the bar.
“Quinn Hathaway.” I said.
“What’s the story?” The Enoch’s sixth eye twitched.
“It started with my being late, I was late for destruction.”
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