The Forecast is Cloudy

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The Brit soon found peace at the end of the storm. The clouds still dark and clouding the sky, as the tired out country curled up more, hoping to find some sleep after the events of the storm and his mental heath.

  A beeping noise arose and made itself known under the covers. A groan let the British man as he shuffled around, trying to find the noise device.

Once the racket was shut off and the phone unlocked, the nation scrolled through the messages, some as recent as the storm. He knew who the messages were from, knowing the person was in London, he didn't reply back and with that he tossed the phone aside, curling up and calling it a day.

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Aye, short and probably crappy.

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