Him Russ Grossman woke up on this clear, bright, California Saturday morning. He slept a little longer than he normally would but he arose with the feeling of something special in his veins. He smelled the scent of berries with a hint of cherries; it gave a sweet violet mist. His blood seemed to soar today. There is a smile on his face  the first one in a very long time. Ever since coming to LA, he always seemed to wake up in a funk. Maybe it was fact that he wasn’t exactly happy; maybe he wasn’t exactly comfortable with his life. Things at the accounting firm seemed to be going OK. He had to admit he was feeling a little homesick but glad he wasn’t in the seven feet of snow yesterday. They moved because of Annina Grossman, his stun

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