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The fires burned brighter than before, smoke in the air choked those around, as guns blazed and people scrambled for cover from the assailants. The streets of Paris overrun with the terrors of oft-told stories abroad.

The wounded Parisian man, held his wounds, as he put his children on the train.

The children cried, "Papa, où irons-nous?"

The man hugged them, replying, "Ce train va à la campagne, où vous serez en sécurité."

The train had began moving as the man got off, his children waving, as Paris continued in silent destruction.

He silently whispered, "Ne m'oublie jamais."

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