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she sped down the hill; the cool wind flying through her hair and dancing on her creamy, golden skin. speckled with freckles, her smooth hands gripped the handle bars of her bike. the machine seemed to quiver under her fingers and despite being a little old and rusty, let her fly on oiled springs and rubber pedals.
0
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 6:21 PM UTC
bicycle
she sped down the hill; the cool wind flying through her hair and dancing on her creamy, golden skin. speckled with freckles, her smooth hands gripped the handle bars of her bike. the machine seemed to quiver under her fingers and despite being a little old and rusty, let her fly on oiled springs and rubber pedals.
written while listening to landslide by fleetwood mac
ameliatrouyer
Written by
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 6:21 PM UTC
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