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Tattooed Teardrops by P.D. Workman5/25/2023 She’d been running from some threat, but she’d lost who or what it was. The threads of her dream were still clinging to her brain like wisps of fog. Tamara pushed her blanket off and scrubbed at her eyes with her fists, trying to wake up fully. She was smaller than most of the other girls, certainly no threat to one of the men guarding the block. As if she could have taken him on anyway. Tamara lowered her hands from the defensive position in an attempt to show Kirk that she was fine and wasn’t going to attack him the first chance she got. Kirk stood back, watching her, waiting for her to get her head on straight and get out of bed. Which explained why she hadn’t been wakened by her cellie when she failed to rise at reveille. She was alone in the cell, but it took a few long seconds for her to remember that she was odd man out with no cellie. It had been years since she had failed to wake at the reveille bell. Where else would she be? Her most recent taste of freedom seemed to have broken her body’s entrainment to the rigid schedule. What are you doing still in bed? Reveille went a long time ago. Take it easy, French, Kirk snapped, pulling back from her. She sat bolt upright, her eyes flying open, hands coming up to protect herself. TAMARA AWOKE WITH A hand gripping her shoulder.
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