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Rock Paper Scissors

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Jan ken pon

Rock, paper, scissors.

I picked rock. So did my reflection. I sighed with relief.

Rock, paper, scissors.

We both picked rock again. Good.

Rock, paper, scissors.

Both scissors. Maybe my friends were just pulling my leg. I smirked victoriously.

Rock, paper, scissors.

My flat, face-down palm shook as my reflection scissored his fingers together.

Game over.

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