Manifest Destiny
Order and chaos at the end of the land.

           The Russians were impossibly beautiful and arrogant in a way Colin could never hope to be.  Colin was sound through and through, but sound didn’t mean much at a hostel in Hollywood.  Dmitry and Timor were all square jaws and flush lips, graceful and slender.  Not gangly, like Colin; slender.  Colin welcomed them after the three months he’d just wasted here.   He knew he had no shot at a proper gap year, what with the recent losses and all, but failing to get himself somewhere overseas at this stage would leave him shy a major rite of passage. 

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