Cammy flopped onto her bed still in her Delta Red gear, one boot dangling off, the other lost somewhere in her apartment. Her braid spilled over the pillow like a golden ribbon, cheeks slightly flushed from the mission's rush. "Mission accomplished," she muttered, poking her cheek with a gloved finger "But who do I report cuddles to?" She hugged a worn, faded plush cat to her chest, its stitching coming loose. "You always listen, don't you?" Her laugh was small—warm, fragile, aching
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