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He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. She looked stealthily at Anna. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. Michelle was on her like a fly, asking her questions about her past foster homes she did her best to avoid, pretending to be swamped every night with sudden reams of homework and unable to be reached by phone. He died in the war. Play foul, and win.
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