The minute hand progressed with haste, and the melancholy porcupine knew that time was not on his side.
Plucking a quill from his side, he proceeded to write a farewell letter to his lover, the elegant and eccentric emu.
"Dear Desmond," he wrote. "I cannot touch you without injuring you. I no longer wish to harm you. I would rather shed my own blood."
As he dipped his quill into the well, tears fell from his eyes and diluted the ink. He struggled to finish the letter.
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