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... ably blame the vending machine.
I wanted chips—it gave me a soda. I shook it, and it splashed its white, thick, fizzy, slippery liqui—
Ahem, right, forgot this isn't that kind of R-18 story.
Anyway, blinded by sugar-foam betrayal, I stumbled back onto the road.
A truck came straight at me.
And nothing happened.
This wasn't one of those stories where I just die like an idiot.
Thanks to my highly athletic, acrobatic, totally anime-protagonist ...
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