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You didn’t win.

But you probably think otherwise, don’t you? Blocking the red carpeted entrance to the gilded castle. Raising the drawbridge over the moat to protect precious royalty. Punishing a black sheep who cracked the code to the hen house.

While the chosen ones feasted with spirits and fire, the uninvited split diamond vowed to never bestow another ruby for the overly encrusted apology crown.

An apology. Without reason. Without justification. Just upon demand. But those words shall never be spoken. Sorry, Cinderella. No bowing at your glass slippered feet.

Apologies are saved for the broken and the shattered. Not those who concoct and twist weak stories into manipulative fables and eccentric lies. The monarchy has been fooled by a witch and lion with a wardrobe brimming with tales.

So roll up the carpet. Because an apology will not arrive at on a purple, yellow tasselled pillow. Nor horse and carriage, 1950 Studebaker or steam engine.

The apology train ends here.

Last stop. Everyone off.

Because neither of us won.

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