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For the first time since the other giants faded into hills and legends, Grigori closed his phone and did not feel the weight of the world on his shoulders.

They became unlikely pen pals. Dmitri sent pictures of his drawings—monsters that looked sad, not scary. Grigori sent back photos of footprints in the snow that were twenty feet apart. Dmitri asked, “Are you a giant?” giants being lonely 2019 ok.ru

Grigori stared at the screen for a long time. Then he typed: “What if I said yes?” For the first time since the other giants

Grigori’s profile was simple. His profile picture was a selfie—just his left eye and a chunk of a cloudy sky. His name: “Last of the Stone Folk.” His location: “The Northern Pass.” He had 142 friends, none of whom he had ever met. They were babushkas sharing jam recipes, truck drivers posting sunsets, and lonely teenagers sharing depressive memes. Grigori sent back photos of footprints in the