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A lone bird chirps as the mid-morning sun burns bright into the afternoon.

Fredrick McCallister is pissed off. He's lying on his king sized mattress, assessing the worth of the potted plant his wife has set on the banister. It's ugly and wilting, sucking up the bare minimum of sunlight and the occasional bottle of beer.

He surmises that it's worthless, deciding to push it out the window. The only problem is, that his legs haven't worked in three years. Mariam, his dearly beloved, is lying in a box underneath Fort's Cemetery.

The nurse comes in.

"Go away, BabyGirl."

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