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Three little words.
Once given, they change the landscape forever. Received with something
close
to bliss, and something foreign as humility. One could almost
believe that
transformation has occurred and redemption is at hand. Almost.
He had been an aspiring poet once, a lifetime ago. A century and
a million
words later, he still knew the power they held. How long he had
waited to hear
those words, freely given, he could not say. But it had been
long enough that
he had despaired of ever being given that gift. The gift of words.
Three little words.
"Come in, Spike."