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(i am bored so)

Trixie took the bus every morning, worked an office job, and went back to her mediocre apartament every afternoon. It was a repetitive yet comforting routine. Could be better, could be worse. Could and would.

(i really just listened to heather by conan gray and went yep i will write a fanfic yep)
(Title, cover, desc and overall story might change, but the writing will remain consistenly bad ;] )
(also, will be updated every blue moon)