[ She takes his hand as they walk down the stairs, doesn't let go until they find somewhere to eat. There is shrimp.
Later that night, on the beach with gentle waves of bioluminescent algae washing over her feet and her head on his shoulder, she will look up at the black sky, at the tiny pinpricks of the stars. Imagine that one of them is the world she came from, rotting and dead in all but name.
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[ She takes his hand as they walk down the stairs, doesn't let go until they find somewhere to eat. There is shrimp.
Later that night, on the beach with gentle waves of bioluminescent algae washing over her feet and her head on his shoulder, she will look up at the black sky, at the tiny pinpricks of the stars. Imagine that one of them is the world she came from, rotting and dead in all but name.
And she will be happy. ]