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Natasha Romanoff shouldn't have to think "I'm tired", not in this body.
Too skilled a liar was a spy, that even her reflection in the mirror hid the truth, and her body was the greatest lie of all: the skin was smooth, unblemished by the scars of a past life.
It didn't feel like herself, but then again, who was Natasha? A body now decomposing, or the collection of memories now inhibiting this new flesh?
Perhaps the only proof that she was herself at all was that tiredness, bone-deep but unfitting.
She did what was natural: she clung to it.

Greyspaces13 Sun 06 Apr 2025 12:02AM UTC
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drabbles (chaosphere) Tue 08 Apr 2025 11:58PM UTC
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