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Grasping at Straws

The screaming is getting louder. I’m still clicking, but every day that voice is becoming yet more deafening. My finger moves automatically to find a page of habit and the voice shouts it down. I no longer enter the virtual worlds. There are but a few places the habit still defends, but the walls are looking less sturdy.

The habit is looking for a new place to hide; it wants somewhere the voice can’t find it. I must keep at least one step ahead.

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