She ran faster and faster, though Glom’s voice had faded long ago. Finally, she slowed, panting, and found herself at the docks. The sky was a soaring, majestic blue, with nary a cloud in sight. She pulled the orange out of a fold in her ragged skirt and strolled down the street. Her bare feet slapped the sun-warmed wood pleasantly, and sweet orange juice dribbled down her chin. See, Mum? It was worth it! Seneca though impishly.

The sky cracked open and hard, angry rain drops pelted down. Seneca was soaked through in a matter of seconds. She stood shivering, stunned. The orange dropped out of her hand. “Thanks, Mum.” She muttered aloud, and headed off toward the nearest doorway.

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