Live Toast

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  You're glaring at the mirror, a harsh, white light expertly aiming for your swollen eyes through drawn blinds. You rub your bushy brows, let out a shake-inducing stretch, the only bit of enjoyment you've experienced since the first frost warning, and yawn. You're knocked back at both the sight of your smushed cowlick and the stench of your dry, funky dragon breath. Have you shape-shifted into a black bear? "No," you croak, peering down at your pale hands half-expecting to find gnarly talo... [Read more]

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