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"It won't work," he whispered. Then louder. "It won't work!"
The music started again. He wasn't a man retreating from a fight anymore; he was a man walking through one, knowing the victory was already written in the lyrics of his life. Fred Hammond - No Weapon Formed Against Me Shall Prosper
Marcus walked out of the church ten minutes later. The sun was setting, painting the sky in defiant oranges and purples. He still had to call the landlord. He still had to find a job. But as he started his car, he hit the back button on the CD player. "It won't work," he whispered