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He loves the cemetery. The silence, the peace and quiet that it holds. They love going there, especially after a long gig when he’s tired and in a pissy mood. It left him time to be alone and calm down. Mary sat and strummed a few strings on his guitar. They sat on top of a larger headstone, one leg dangling off and the other propped up on the stone structure. He was silent until a small noise made your presence known. They turned their head and looked at you. “Fuck do you want?” He muttered.
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