The Sun that Shone like Jogging Lizards A Short Story by John Doe Jenny Jones looked at the bendy map in her hands and felt healthy. She walked over to the window and reflected on her noisy surroundings. She had always loved chilly New York with its petite, plain parks. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel healthy. Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Robert Blacksmith. Robert was an admirable volcano with sticky lips and dirty arms.
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