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Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something.
Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. I inherited that from him.
It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.
It was too green — an alien planet.
It was too green — an alien planet.
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