She ran.
She ran because she had nought else to do in this world that refused to love those like her. The sky was streaked yellow and orange and golds that gilded the streets ahead of her in a light that was holy and false. She faltered for a second, legs burning, lungs heaving, and came to a stop outside a shabby shop front.
Sighing, she pushed her way inside.
What happens in the next chapter?
This is the end of the narrative for now. However, you can write the next chapter of the story yourself.
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