Summary

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Love. Love is the selfless, but selfish act of tugging. Love is the warmth of a fire burning so hot, till sometimes it twists into decay and morphs into hurt on paper. Love is what everyone wants. Needs. Love isn't something that simply appears, though when it can, is that love still considered real? Is it real if all you have to base it on is the world?

In the quant, cobblestoned streets, and misted corners of Eurydice, its people are assigned a song. A song title given to them at birth. From there on it is easy to figure out your song with the help of the Internet. But with so many different people flying by; if I do say so myself, how will one ever find their true love?


 But with so many different people flying by; if I do say so myself, how will one ever find their true love?

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