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We were seven. Born in the putrid stench of trash mingling with exhaust. There was no Mommy. Only brothers and sisters squirming around, mewing in hunger. Sirens echo through our memories. We don’t speak of the darkness. We don’t speak of the fear. 

I’ve been watching. I know what she does not. I saw each of our siblings succumbed to the void. We were seven. Only three made it out of the city. Only two made it into foster. I kept my sister safe. I protected her fiercely. She tells me to lighten up. She tells me to relax. She hasn’t seen what I have seen. She doesn’t know the truth. 

I see. I know the truth. Pets will be permitted, but even the humans that nursed us back to health cannot be trusted. 

We were seven. Now we are two. What happens when we’re one? 

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