I have coffee. I don't brew it anymore, just chew the beans and swallow, bitter-bitter. I have energy drinks and a small baggie filled with white powder that I'm maybe seventy-five percent sure is not laundry detergent. I have a pin to sit on and a rubber band around my wrist to snap. I must watch the edge of the woods until they come back and we know if we are saved or doomed.
You cannot sleep in the Livewood, not even here on the edge. This is the land where dreams come true.
I remember some of my dreams.
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