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Lights flickered wildly across the screen, flashing straight onto Jamie's face. He had cleaned the room now—the dust was gone, and so was the rusty smell that had once soaked the air. In its place was a fresh, soapy scent, the kind that strangely calmed the heart.
On the wall, he had hung a plain white sheet to serve as the background when he spoke to the people of midworld.
And speaking of the participants—
High above the ground, throughout the city of midworld, everyone moved slowly, like they had just lived through a day so exhausting it had drained the life out of them.
And honestly, they had.
You didn't need to be smart to feel it.
Tension clung to the air like perfume.
Sooner or later, a bloody confrontation was going to happen, and everyone would have to choose a side.
Fast.
And the soft jazz music drifting from most of the televisions did absolutely nothing to ease that feeling.
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