Fantasy

The Cost of Being a Rifter

 

Trust, secrecy, sacrifice, and life beside the rift.

Rifters scene

Becoming a Rifter is not a childhood dream. It is not glory. It is not adventure. It is an invitation. Not everyone receives one.

A Rifter must be intelligent, quick-thinking, and capable under pressure. They must know how to fight, how to endure pain, and how to face fear without freezing. Monsters do not care about speeches or noble intentions. When the rift opens, hesitation can kill not only a Rifter, but everyone standing beside them. If the Rifters fail, Earth is vulnerable. They must not fail.

That is why trust matters above all else.

Rifters work in small groups, often only six to ten people. Every member must trust the others completely. When a creature emerges from the rift in the dead of night, there is no time to question whether someone will hold the line, watch your blind spot, or drag you home wounded. A single weak link can dooms everyone.

That kind of trust creates bonds stronger than friendship. But it also creates distance from the rest of the world.

Only Rifters know the truth about the rift.

To everyone else, strange noises in the night might be blamed on volcanic vents or shifting earth. Missing livestock becomes bad luck. Odd tracks are dismissed as tricks of weather and mud. The Rifters protect that secrecy carefully. Panic helps no one. Fear spreads faster than monsters.

But secrecy has a cost.

A Rifter learns to lie convincingly. Sometimes to neighbors. Sometimes to friends. Sometimes to people they love. “No, there was no monster.” “It was only steam from a volcanic vent.” “You worry too much.”

The lies protect the town, but they also build walls between Rifters and ordinary life.

Most people spend their summers celebrating warmth, festivals, and long evenings beneath the stars. Rifters spend theirs on guard duty.

From the summer solstice until the fall equinox, the rift opens at night. During those months, sleep becomes precious. Rifters keep watch in darkness while the rest of the world rests safely unaware. They learn to function exhausted. Hypervigilant. Listening for sounds no one else notices. Seeing auras no one else sees.

And every summer, they surrender a part of ordinary life again. That may be the greatest cost of becoming a Rifter: existing between two worlds. For part of the year, a Rifter can laugh at gatherings, rejoin the world with regular concerns, and pretend life is simple. Then summer comes, and they return to the edge of the rift where secrets, monsters, and responsibility wait in the dark.

But despite the burden, people still accept the invitation.

Because someone must stand watch.

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Crossings and Thresholds

 

A bonus story from the Rifters universe…

Crossings, Rifters bonus story

Darkness wrapped its fingers around the last dregs of day, pulling down the sun, leaving behind bruising colors that faded into black. Cordelia Swit sat on a fallen log with her best friend in the woods. Before them rose two obsidian pillars in a small clearing among the pines.

The pines in the high desert of Oregon didn’t grow into the impressive towers as the forests to the west in the Cascades to the coast, but their tops teased the descending night and welcomed a chill more associated with winter than early July. It would be another week or so before warmth elbowed its way into the hours after sunset.

Cordelia huddled with Dottie Hessler, her best friend, under a quilt. The two of them wore bearskin coats, knitted mittens, and scarves, but it wasn’t enough to chase away a case of the shivers. Dottie pulled out a canteen and two cups, placing them on a boulder in front of them. Before she could poor the steaming contents of the canteen, Cordelia stopped her.

The heady aroma of well-brewed coffee hit Cordelia’s nose, and she sighed. “It will get cold too fast in the cups.”

“You’re right.” Dottie took a sip and handed the canteen over. Her usually prim curls were stuffed under a hunting cap she had taken from her father. The earflaps were down and tied under her chin so they’d stay down. Where Dottie was fair and light and giggly, Cordelia was darker, coarser, more brooding.

Dottie had said that’s why there were such good friends, because they fit together like salt and paper, like light and dark, like teasing and serious. This held true as Settler grew and more people occupied the town. Each of them always knew what the other needed and never shied away from providing it.

Cordelia sipped cautiously without flinching at the soft pinch of scalding coffee on her lips and tongue. Feeling something other than bone-boring cold was welcome. “Too bad it can’t stay hot until morning.”

“Now there would be an invention. I don’t suppose our resident genius blacksmith could come up with something?”

“We’ll bring it up at the Rifter meeting tomorrow.”

“Let us have nothing to report.” Dottie sent her wish out into the universe, and as her words faded, the obsidian pillars sizzled into life. Blue fingers of energy licked up their sides, reaching into the sky, then arching in toward each other to form a circle. She set down her cup and clutched at Cordelia’s arm.

Cordelia stood to face whatever monster was about to set foot on their world, clutching a sword in one hand and a club in the other. With a deep breath, Dottie mustered her courage and took the club, brandishing it over her shoulder.

The blue ball of light intensified and expanded. Cordelia brandished the sword. Dottie leered.

“Monsters not welcome here,” Dottie yelled, her voice growling, wrapping her nerves in armor.

Cordelia snarled too, her grip tightening on the hilt of the sword.

A spark of yellow, like the ember from a fire, flitted out from the rift and landed on Dottie’s boot. She reached down and brushed it off, jolting as her fingers brushed over the ember.

“You shouldn’t touch it,” Cordelia warned too late. She grabbed her friend by the shoulders and jerked her upright. “Are you okay? What happened?”

The glow from the rift cast a hellish hue over Dottie’s skin and her mouth hung slack-jawed as if she had entered the realm of phantoms.

Cordelia shook her. “You’re scaring me.”

As suddenly as the rift opened, it closed. Dottie blinked and laughed. “Well, that was quite the rush, my friend.”

“What happened?” Cordelia furrowed her brow.

“I have the same question for you.”

“Let’s get you home and rested.”

By the light of the endless sprinkle of stars overhead, they picked their way through the forest to their homes.

The next day, Cordelia toiled at washing the bedding, taking the sheets out of the kettle that had been sitting overnight, schlepping clean water from the lake, rinsing and rinsing again, scrubbing on the washboard, rinsing again, and she had just finished ringing out the sheets. She kept one eye on the position of the sun and swiped the sweat from her brow. When the sun started to lower, the Rifters would meet at the blacksmith’s and go over what had happened last night and how to adjust their guardianship of Settler and their world.

Taking a deep breath, she stood still for a moment, letting the cool breath from the far-off Cascades caress her heated face, asking her body for a second wind to get the washing hung on the line. Before she had finished her brief rest, she heard the pounding of feet on the dirt road passing by the house.

“Cordelia!” a frantic voice called.

She fluttered open her eyelids and squinted at Gregory Hessler racing her way. The heat of day didn’t stop the chill from entering her blood. Mr. Hessler didn’t run, didn’t’ become frantic. Without him saying a word, she knew something was wrong with Dottie.

Cordelia left the washing and dashed off to meet her neighbor. “What’s wrong?” she huffed when they were close enough to speak.

“Dottie. It’s Dottie.” He panted so hard he could barely speak. He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward his ranch with him. “You have to come. Please.” His cracking tone cracked Cordelia’s heart.

Before they reached the Hessler’s ranch, they ran into Dottie. She skipped toward them, twirling, and squealing in off-key notes. Her hair whipped wildly around her face, and her dress was on backwards.

Cordelia stumbled to a halt, feeling the blood drain from her face. “Get the others, Gregory.”

“What happened last night?” His eyes welled and demanded an answer from her.

She couldn’t look him in the eye or her best friend. “I don’t know.” She swiped a tear off her cheek. “I wish I had a better answer.”

“I do too.”

“I’ll stay with her. Get the others.”

Dottie’s eyes glowed with an eerie light and a purple aura haunted her as she laughed and twirled. Dottie blinked, and the aura and glow in the eyes faded. Her expression twisted. “What’s happening?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Cordelia reassured her friend.

Gregory Hessler ran off faster than Cordelia could form an apology. She said it to Dottie instead. “I fear you’re not quite you, dearest friend. I’m so sorry I didn’t keep you safe.” Worse, what if whatever had happened to Dottie spread to the rest of the town?

Taking a risk, Cordelia took Dottie’s hand and led her back to the house. “I promise to do better. I promise my life and soul.”

 

 

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Book Review: A Time Traveler’s History of Tomorrow by Kendall Kulper

 

 

Falling Through Time with Genevieve and Ash

Review A Time Traveler's History of Tomorrow

A Time Traveler’s History of Tomorrow is the third book in Kendall Kulper’s young adult series featuring characters with extraordinary abilities. I thoroughly enjoyed the first two novels, A Starlet’s Secret to a Sensational Afterlife and Murder for the Modern Girl, and this newest installment follows a similar and satisfying pattern.

In this story, the heroine, Genevieve, can turn invisible, while the hero, Ash, can manipulate time. Rather than centering solely on romance, the plot is foremost about the growth of these two characters as they navigate the situation they find themselves in. The situation is this: While attending the 1934 Chicago World’s Fair, Genevieve and Ash accidentally fall through time to the 1893 fair. Genevieve’s science skills are no match for finding herself in another era, and she needs help. Obviously, Ash’s ability to manipulate time is a key factor in getting home.

The time travel element is lively and imaginative. The history of 1893 and 1934 come alive. Some of the societal issues, unfortunately, remain too similar to today. We have moved the needle some, but not far enough. The help I mentioned comes in the form of secondary characters, who are especially engaging. Twists and turns abound in the story, and the character arcs are beautifully done.

Romance is not my genre, but I enjoy romances that offer more than just the relationship at their center, and Kendall Kulper consistently provides exactly that. This series blends charm, adventure, and heart, and with this third book, I remain very much a fan.

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The Rifters: The Complete Series Special Editions

 

Forty-two universes. One rift. Exclusive editions, new novels, and a Kickstarter you don’t want to miss.

Rifters series finale

Deep in the woods of a remote Oregon town called Settler, a rift connects our world to forty-one others.

Sometimes… things come through.

Monsters. Myths. The unexpected.

And it’s the Rifters’ job to stop them.


What is The Rifters?

It’s a little bit of everything:

  • A little fantasy — magic, monsters, portals, and myths
  • A little sci-fi — forty-two connected universes with nods to real science
  • A little steampunk — crystal-powered gadgets and gear-driven weapons
  • A little weird western — a strange Oregon town full of mystery and grit

In other words… it’s exactly the kind of chaos you’d expect from Settler.


What’s in This Kickstarter?

Exclusive Editions & New Stories

  • Two brand-new novels completing the series: The Generals and The Warder
  • Kickstarter-exclusive book: Journal of Patrick Swit
  • Kickstarter-exclusive novella: The Legacy
  • Bonus content in every book: extra scenes, stories, and worldbuilding
  • Signed ebooks
  • Artist-made map in every book
  • Chapter artwork throughout

📚 Early Access & Print Exclusivity

  • Full-color print editions only available through this Kickstarter
  • Chapter numbers replaced with immersive chapter titles
  • Get the final two novels months before retail release
  • A map of Settler included inside the books

💻 Digital Rewards

  • Character cards
  • Behind-the-scenes content
  • Activity booklet and snack pairings (yes, really 😄)

🎁 Physical Rewards & Collectibles

  • Bookplates, bookmarks, magnets, stickers
  • A volcanic killer ash bee 👀

🎉 Interactive & Ongoing Fun

  • Weekly party favors for backers
  • Help co-write a Kickstarter-exclusive Rifters story
  • Bonus goodies like coloring pages and sneak peeks

Why This Campaign Matters

This isn’t just a book launch party, it’s the complete Rifters experience, expanded and enhanced.

More story.
More world.
More of the strange, dangerous, and sometimes plain odd.


Join the Rift

If you’ve ever wanted to step into Settler…

Now’s your chance.

👉 Follow the campaign and be ready when it launches.

Because once the rift opens, you want to be ready.

RIFTERS FINALE

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Wanted: Those Who Don’t Fear the Dark

 

A story from the Rifters universe…

Cordelia Swit from the Rifters

More houses, more streets, more neighbors graced the lands upon which the town of Settler had been founded in Central Oregon. When Cordelia had first arrived with her brother and mother in 1888 to join their father, she had been so young she didn’t know the meaning of much and only two other families had joined them that first year. Wooden buildings dotted the landscape where there was once just scrub and trees. A few wagons rumbled down the streets, and horses slapped their impatient tails at hitching posts.

Nestled inside the remains of an ancient super volcano, the town was picturesquely set between two placid lakes warmed with the residual energy of the volcano. It’s crumbled crater walls cradled Settler from some of the harsher winter storms, but not all of them. Snow remained on the craggy peaks, and the Cascades in the distance were still entirely white, showing no indication that summer would begin in a mere month. Cordelia was hardly ready.

Her paps built additions to the house like a man possessed. The newest upside-down room made her dizzy, and she couldn’t get him to stop. Neither could his best friend Chuck. Since the loss of her mother, he hadn’t been as coherent. He got worse when baby Wallace died. The baby had no chance without a mother to fight for him. Cordelia had only been six, the town wasn’t populated enough to help out, and her father had been incapable of caring for the infant.

Tragedy aside, the worst part was the rift would open on the summer solstice, and her paps couldn’t be trusted to keep the town and the world safe. Not anymore. She and Chuck had discussed it in length, and he had insisted she take over.

Between the summer solstice and fall equinox every year, the rift opened and brought the potential of monsters visiting Earth. Her father, Chuck, and some of Chuck’s tribe had quietly sent the monsters away every summer. This season, Chuck’s people had been moved away and her father wouldn’t leave the house. Her older brother, Rick, rarely tore his attention away from his guitar long enough to be of any use to her. He just sat in the pasture, singing to the cows. She feared insanity ran in the family and hoped she hadn’t inherited the gene.

She had left the house with the sole purpose to recruit Rifters, people who would watch over the rift with her. Sure, her brother would be at her side, but she didn’t see how his songs could back her up if push came to shove.

Her first stop was the ranch next door. The simple one-story structure had been painted a pretty yellow and had the most inviting porch. The ladies of the house lived here all year round, but Mr. Hessler spent the winters boxing in San Francisco and Portland to supplement what his ranch produced. He generously offered lessons to the townsfolk and didn’t discriminate between young or old, or man or woman. His philosophy was that everyone should know how to defend themselves.

A man with the physical rigor of a rancher and boxer would make a great guardian out at the rift. Cordelia had it in her mind she would not leave until he said yes. When the Hesslers had moved in, his daughter, Dottie, had become fast friends with Cordelia. It was from Dottie that Cordelia had heard Mr. Hessler had returned from San Franciso.

While still walking down the road, she spotted him in the fields with his horses. He was trying his hand at taming wild mustangs this year. She watched him chase the herd around the pasture, never getting any closer to any of them.

“You’re going about it all wrong,” Cordelia advised from outside the flimsy fence, trying to tame the flyaway brown strands escaping her bun.

“Get in here and show me.” He tossed the rope to her.

Cordelia grabbed hold of her brown skirts and slipped through the slats of the fence. “I’m happy to oblige after all those boxing lessons, Mr. Hessler.”

“Too bad Chuck had to move. I could use his wisdom.” He had sandy brown hair and blue eyes like his offspring. Cordelia often envied their blue eyes, but knew she was better off with her sensible brown pair.

“You have me. I’m enough.” She picked up the rope and walked to the middle of the field, setting her sights on a young mare who didn’t have a foal and wasn’t about to foal. She sat down and talked softly to the horses. Sometimes, she whistled and sang. Mr. Hessler brought her lunch and a bucket of apples. “Do you have any books?” she asked. He returned a while later and set The Old Curiosity Shop by Charles Dickens in her hands.

“Pardon me for saying so, Miss Swit, but you don’t seem to be accomplishing anything. The horses are ignoring you.”

“Which is a good thing, Mr. Hessler. If they were paying me mind, they’d probably be running away.”

“Okay, I see what you’re getting at. Should I stay?”

“If you sit quietly and don’t scare off the herd.”

“Fair enough. Good thing I brought another book.” He pulled The Three Musketeers out of his pocket. “I brought the Dickens back for you.”

“For me? You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

“You’re Dottie’s best friend and my best pupil, Miss Swit.”

“Call me Cordelia, please. Let’s not treat each other so coldly.”

“Excuse me if I slip up now and then, but I’ll do my best to oblige, Cor-Cordelia.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you come by for a boxing lesson? I know it wasn’t to teach me horse taming.”

“Hm, yes.” She squinted at the sun before settling her gaze back on him. “I need recruits. Folks not afraid of the dark. Folks who would be good in a fight.”

His eyes widened. “For what purpose? You don’t seem the brawling type, Miss…, er, Cordelia.”

“This town has a deep secret which Paps has kept since he founded this town in 1888.”

“The weird blue lights in the woods in the summers?”

Her eyes widened this time. “How did you know?”

“I don’t know what the lights mean, but most of the town has witnessed them. Chuck’s explanation of the volcano sometimes letting off some steam satisfied most.”

“But not you.”

He shook his head.

“You’re right to be skeptical.” She explained the rift and the potential for monsters.

“You can count me in, and Dottie will want to be part of it. You’re taking on women, aren’t you?”

“I don’t discriminate Mr. Hessler.”

“Call me Gregory.”

“Doesn’t seem proper, Mr. Hessler.”

The young dun mare came up to Cordelia, snuffled her and the bucket of apples. She held one out to the mare. “You’re a beautiful dear, aren’t you.” The mare let Cordelia touch her before trotting off. “You behave just like this until the horses start to trust you, then you move on in the training.”

“Will you come by when I’m ready for the next step?”

“You can count on it. The dun mare will be mine, by the way.”

“I’d have it no other way.” He scratched the back of his neck. “If you’re looking for more recruits, I have a few suggestions.”

“No worries, I have the matter well in hand.

“You always do.”

She left the ranch for the outskirts of town and the blacksmith’s shop. A half open sort of barnlike building, the shop was as utilitarian and straightforward as its owner. Langston Quarles was in many ways as dark as his anvil, and Cordelia appreciated his serious manner. His coal-black eyes didn’t glance up from his work when she walked into his shop.

“What ken I do ya fer, Miss Swit. It be coming up on evening time.”

“I wouldn’t dare keep you from Edna’s supper. No worries, Mr. Quarles.” If there was on person in this town who was as formidable as Cordelia, it was the blacksmith’s wife. “Is Edna keeping herself well?”

“You know. You just had tea will her last week.”

“Fair enough, I’ll not delay my reason for coming any further. I admire your ingenuity with your inventions and creations. You already are a great service to the town, but you could be even greater.”

“How so?”

She told him about the rift and how she needed help with keeping Settler and the world safe. “Will you join me in this endeavor, Mr. Quarles?”

“If you’re so lucky as to procure Edna’s say so, I will.”

“I will stop by your place and ask her for tea.”

“I want to help, though. So, you know where my feelings sit on the matter, but I won’t defy my Edna.”

“Nor should you.”

“She’d make a great addition to the group,” he suggested and returned to hammering on a panel of metal.

Following through, Cordelia popped by the Quarles’s home and invited Edna to tea the next day.

Edna had her dark hair pulled back with a scarf wrapped around her curls, which had a mind of their own. She bounced her young son on her hip. “It’ll have to be before lunching time. You’ve more town business to discuss?”

“Yes, I promise it’s more interesting than discussing infrastructure.”

“I look forward to it, Cordelia. Evening meal’s on the fire. If it burns Langston and my baby boy go hungry.”

Cordelia had no intentions of lingering. Interfering with Edna’s schedule would make her the subject of the woman’s ire for years. Cordelia didn’t need the drama in her life. She went home and tended to her own family, her father and brother.

The next day, she dressed in her fine blue dress and arranged a hat over her more carefully arranged hair. Edna demanded and deserved the respect of making an effort. She strode into the middle of town and inside the bakery, which also served as a tea café for ladies. Cordelia selected the quiet table in the corner and placed the order for a pot of tea, two cups, biscuits, butter, and honey. Edna abhorred too much of a fuss.

She walked in less than a minute later, dressed in her fine burgundy dress to rival the best fashions in San Francisco. Decorative combs slicked back her dark curls and rolled them into a charming updo. A delicate face with cute features belied by the force of her nature.

“Good day, Cordelia.” She sat down and removed her gloves. “Did you order the tea? Today, my time is limited. Langston has to ride out to Pronghorn to deliver an order of nails. What do you need me to accomplish? And for the life of me, with all these souls in this town, why are we the only two who can get anything done?”

“Excellent question, Edna.” Cordelia fell quiet as Bernard set down their tea and biscuits. She waited until he disappeared into the back kitchen before revealing the rift and the proposition she had made to Edna’s husband.

“He knows what’s good for him by telling you to ask me before he answers, but you should have come to me first, Cordelia.”

“I considered it in earnest but wanted to know whether he was interested before coming to you.”

“The courtesy is noted. Thank you. I’m keen to join you too, but not yet. When my boy gets old enough to watch over the babes, I’ll start up with you then.”

“Your offer is generous.”

“It’s no offer, it’s a desire. We make things happen, Cordelia. You make this happen for me. Now, I must go.” She hadn’t touched her tea before gliding out the door. Heads turned as she strolled by. Between her beauty, poise, and demeanor, Edna was a vision few could ignore.

Across the street, the general store had a steady stream of customers. Cordelia knew this hour of the day was one of Millicent Fisk’s busiest. Cordelia enjoyed her tea and biscuit, then another cup of tea. The general store grew quiet. She asked Bernard to box up the biscuits and stepped across the street.

Besides a general store, Milicent Fisk was the town’s apothecary. She had been a nurse in the War Between the States and tended to the folks of Settler as gently as she had once cared for soldiers.

“You need another tincture for your paps, Miss Cordelia?” Millicent wiped her hands on her apron. Her graying blonde hair was neatly piled on top of her head. Her eyes, which were a nondescript shade of brown, scoured over Cordelia, perhaps looking for health issues. “How did he fare with the last one?”

“No better, Millicent.”

“There are others we can try, but they’ll make him dopey so that he sleeps a lot.”

“I’m not sure we’re there yet.”

“Your too young to be shouldering all these troubles.”

“When you were my age, you were tending to severely wounded men in a war.”

“Like you, I’m a doer.”

“You’re also one of Mr. Hessler’s best students. All of your talents I could sorely use.” She told Millicent of the rift and her forming a group of protectors.

“Count me in by all means.” Millicent crossed her arms, leaning back against a partition, hiding her herbs and ingredients. Some accused her of being a witch. The ignorant always accused intelligent women of such nonsense.

“We’ll meet up at Mr. Hessler’s ranch in two days to begin training together.”

“What sort of training will we do?”

“Learning not to scream at monsters.”

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The Outlaw Who Disappeared…

 

Worldbuilding from the Rifters universe…

Earl Black From the Rifters

Earl Blacke in The Rifters has a fascinating real-world inspiration: the legendary outlaw Black Bart, born Charles Boles. Black Bart wasn’t your typical bandit. He lived a life full of twists: a gold miner, a soldier twice promoted in the field during the Civil War, sometimes a farmer, husband, and father. Later, he mingled with San Francisco’s high society, posing as a wealthy gentleman. According to the people who considered him a friend, he was charming, personable, and well mannered.

A posh life needed money. When funds ran low, he turned to the open spaces of California and to the Wells Fargo stage coaches. His methods were original:

  • He wore a flour sack with holes cut for eyes.
  • Carried an unloaded shotgun.
  • Robbed only the mail and Wells Fargo shipments.
  • Left passengers unharmed and untouched.
  • Occasionally left poems at the scene.

A dropped handkerchief during one heist finally led to his capture, and he served time in San Quentin. He confessed to only that one robbery despite suspicions of at least 28. When released in 1888, he vanished, leaving the world to speculate about the “gentleman bandit’s” fate.

I read multiple biographies about Charles Boles and thought long and hard about what kind of man he might have been. I tried to get into his head and imagine his psychology. Here’s what I came up with:

  1. The war really messed him up.
  2. He likely took his failures to find gold as failures of character.
  3. Whatever Wells Fargo did, it surely made him angry.
  4. He was an adventurer at heart.
  5. The death of his son shortly after he returned from the war may have been the last straw

I don’t think he was cold-hearted. I think at that point in his life, he was just incapable of giving more of his heart and needed to cut ties with those he knew, including his wife and children. He was probably in survival mode. His real life disappearance was a mystery I couldn’t resist.

The name I use in the series comes from his real life middle name and his outlaw name. I loved the idea of taking someone so complex and sending him through a rift into another time. In Settler, Earl Blacke arrives forty years younger with a chance to atone. However, the rift has other plans for Earl.

The Outlaw Who Disappeared… Read More »

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