She sat on her bed, pen suspended over the pad of paper she was holding. She gazed thoughtfully, if not absent-mindedly, at the smiley face clock on her nightstand. It had been a birthday present from her sister. She wracked her brain for something, anything, that she could write down to destroy the blankness of the page. A blankness meant no story, and no story meant frustration. Until, that is, she wrote something down. An idea came to her, just as her favorite song came on over the radio. She scratched it down just in time to sing along with the las chorus of the tune. When she was done, she sat back and read her creation. Here is what she wrote:
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What, can't you find the end?
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