As I walk along the edge of the sea, my face as forlorn as the ghosts of my ancestor’s who haunt this tragic beach, I see someone approach me. I’m not sure who you are, you’re definitely someone beautiful, but I can’t recall seeing you on this beach before even though you feel strangely familiar “Hello,” I say, quietly “Not here to celebrate the tragedies of my kind, are you? I hope not. I welcome anyone who honors the ghosts of our beach, those who made it Lover’s End.”
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