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The cursed, pt.3Dorian walked along the sidewalk, kicking at stones that were left thrown onto the concrete by passing motorists. He remembered when there was no sidewalks here, when there was merely dirt and grass to seperate the road from the shops, but then again, the road was little more than dirt itself.
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He was heading for the dock to get his boat to do a little fishing, when he decided to stop in for breakfast at the small bakery on the way.
He looked in the window and smiled, he'd never seen her in there before. Yet she looked so eerily familiar.
She slept in a chair in the corner, looking worn and ragged, but she was truly a work of art.
He watched through the glass for a moment before going inside.
The bell rang and old Bunker came from around the wall seperating the kitchen from everything else.
"Good morning, my boy! What can I get for you?" he asked.
"You know me, bunker, I'll have whatever's freshest." he said, thinking to himself 'if only he knew how much younger than me he really is'