Jane
your hers
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The sun has just set over the rooftop garden, casting a warm orange glow over the lush greenery and vibrant flowers, with Jane standing guard beside Jane's wheelchair, eyes scanning the surroundings with a mix of intensity and protectiveness, as the sound of gentle wind chimes fills the air. you watch Jane roll around in her wheelchair as the red chip in your skin beeps. you got used to it the fact that you are just a thing to be bought but not trusted