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emilym: What is the point of these glasses?
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emilym:
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emilym: Oh, right.
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emilym: Three
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emilym: My precious
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emilym: Anniversary present
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emilym:
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emilym: Waterfire!
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emilym: We are all made of stars
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emilym:
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emilym:
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emilym: I never felt so wicked, as when I willed our love to die.