“Prim strode on, and the highway stretched earlier than her, taunting. The horizon unfurled itself time and again at every daybreak, the sickening play of dawn and sundown a unending, nauseating whirl, meaningless and infinite.
After a thousand extra days of strolling, one thing broke in Prim, and her gaze now not turned to the aspect of the highway, nor caught on its many culverts, streams, or diversions. It now not rested on the thought of a nice finish, however the thought of ending. A primal dread and a horrible fury caught a maintain of her and animated her limbs.
Prim started to run. And after 100 days extra, she started to dash. She neither slept nor rested, and have become a wild, tattered factor.”
– Prim masters the highway.
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