It kept coming, the dream, and I kept running, afraid. I wasn't alone in this, footprints all around, by the hundreds, their stride suggesting the same frantic flight. A general confusion, the sole discernible pattern, a lack of pursuit, the peril only figment. A societal plight, this unwillingness to fight. To share the deepest of secret, admit to the darkest of struggles would purge the fright, bring shine and a rainbow to the valley. There's so much more beauty in intimacy than in concealment.
Why not brave etiquette?
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